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THE  HEART  OF  THE  DESERT 


Side  by  Side,  They  Rode  Off  Into  the  Desert  Sunset.     Page  313. 

The  Heart  of  the  Desert. 


THE  HEART 
OF  THE  DESERT 

(KUT-LE  OF  THE  DESERT) 


By  HONORE  WILLSIE 

Author  of  •^StillJim" 


"With  Frontispiece  In  Colors 
By  V.  HERBERT  DUNTON 


A.  L.  BURT  COMPANY,  PUBLISHERS 

114-120  East  Twenty-third  Street      -      -      New  York 

PUBLISHED  BY  ARRANGEMENT  WITH  FREDERICK  A.  STOKES  COMPANY 


Copyright,  19 12,  by 
The  RiDGWAY  Company 


Copyright,  191 3,  by 
Frederick  A.  Stokes  Company 


All  rights  reserved,  including  that  of  translation  into  foreign 
languages,  including  the  Scandinavian 


■zxxH  pftiirxivo 


September,  1913 


CONTENTS 

CHAPTER  PAGE 

I  The  Valley  of  the  Pecos i 

II  The  Caucasian  Way 19 

III  The  Indian  and  Caucasian     .     .     .^ 37 

IV  The  Indian    Way 53 

V  The  Pursuit 69 

VI  Entering  the  Desert  Kindergarten 83 

VII  The  First  Lesson 99 

VIII  A  Broadening   Horizon 113 

IX  Touch  and  Go 129 

X  A  Long  Trail 141 

XI  The  Turn  in  the  Trail 153 

XII  The  Crossing  Trails 167 

XIII  An    Interlude 181 

XIV  The  Beauty  of  the  World 195 

XV  An  Escape 209 

XVI  Adrift  in  the  Desert 219 

XVII  The  Heart's  Own  Bitterness .233 

XVIII  The  Forgotten  City 249 

XIX  The  Trail  Again 261 

XX  The  Ruined  Mission 271 

XXI  The  End  op  the  Trail 291 


MG37G23 


The  Heart  of  the  Desert 


CHAPTER  I 

THE   VALLEY  OF  THE  PECOS 

"DHODA  hobbled  through  the  sand  to  the  nearest  rock. 

On  this  she  sank  with  a  groan,  clasped  her  slender 

foot  with  both  hands  and  looked  about  her  helplessly. 

She  felt  very  small,  very  much  alone.  The  infinite 
wastes  of  yellow  desert  danced  in  heat  waves  against  the 
bronze-blue  sky.  The  girl  saw  no  sign  of  living  thing 
save  a  buzzard  that  swept  lazily  across  the  zenith.  She 
turned  dizzily  from  contemplating  the  vast  emptiness 
about  her  to  a  close  scrutiny  of  her  injured  foot.  She 
drew  off  her  thin  satin  house  slipper  painfully  and 
dropped  it  unheedingly  into  a  bunch  of  yucca  that 
crowded  against  the  rock.  Her  silk  stocking  followed. 
Then  she  sat  in  helpless  misery,  eying  her  blue-veined 
foot. 

In  spite  of  her  evident  invalidism,  one  could  but  wonder 
why  she  made  so  little  effort  to  help  herself.  She  sat 
droopingly  on  the  rock,  gazing  from  her  foot  to  the  far 

1 


t  THE  HEART  OF  THE  DESERT 

lavender  line  of  the  mesas.  A  tiny,  impotent  atom  of 
life,  she  sat  as  if  the  eternal  why  which  the  desert  hurls 
at  one  overwhelmed  her,  deprived  her  of  hope,  almost  of 
sensation.  There  was  something  of  nobility  in  the 
steadiness  with  which  she  gazed  at  the  melting  distances, 
something  of  pathos  in  her  evident  resignation  to  her 
own  helplessness  and  weakness. 

The  girl  was  quite  unconscious  of  the  fact  that  a  young 
man  was  tramping  up  the  desert  behind  her.  He,  how- 
ever, had  spied  the  white  gown  long  before  Rhoda  had 
sunk  to  the  rock  and  had  laid  his  course  directly  for  her. 
He  was  a  tall  fellow,  standing  well  over  six  feet  and  he 
swung  through  the  heavy  sand  with  an  easy  stride  that 
covered  distance  with  astonishing  rapidity.  As  he  drew 
near  enough  to  perceive  Rhoda's  yellow  head  bent 
above  her  injured  foot,  he  quickened  his  pace,  swung 
round  the  yucca  thicket  and  pulled  off  his  soft  felt  hat. 

"  Good-morning! "  he  said.    "  What's  the  matter  ? " 

Rhoda  started,  hastily  covered  her  foot,  and  looked 
up  at  the  tall  khaki-clad  j&gure.  She  never  had  seen  the 
young  man  before,  but  the  desert  is  not  formal. 

"A  thing  like  a  little  crayfish  bit  my  foot,*'  she 
answered;  "and  you  don't  know  how  it  hurts!" 

"Ah,  but  I  do!'*  exclaimed  the  young  man,  "A 
scorpion  sting!    Let  me  see  iti" 

Rhoda  flushed. 


THE  VALLEY  OF  THE  PECOS  3 

'*  Oh,  never  mind  that !'  *  she  said.  "  But  if  you  will  go 
to  the  Newman  ranch-house  for  me  and  ask  them  to 
send  the  buckboard  I'll  be  very  grateful.  I — ^I  feel 
dizzy,  you  know.'* 

"Gee  whiz!"  exclaimed  the  young  man.  "There's 
no  time  for  me  to  run  about  the  desert  if  you  have  a 
scorpion  sting  in  your  foot!" 

"  Is  a  scorpion  sting  dangerous  ?  '*  asked  Rhoda.  Then 
she  added,  languidly,  "Not  that  I  mind  if  it  is!" 

The  young  man  gave  her  a  curious  glance.  Then  he 
pulled  a  small  case  from  his  pocket,  knelt  in  the  sand  and 
lifted  Rhoda's  foot  in  one  slender,  strong,  brown  hand. 
The  instep  already  was  badly  swollen. 

"  Hold  tight  a  minute! "  said  the  young  man. 

And  before  Rhoda  could  protest  he  had  punctured 
the  red  center  of  the  swelling  with  a  little  scalpel,  had 
held  the  cut  open  and  had  filled  it  with  a  white  powder 
that  bit.  Then  he  pulled  a  clean  handkerchief  from  his 
pocket  and  tore  it  in  two.  With  one  half  he  bound  the 
ankle  above  the  cut  tightly.  With  the  other  he  bandaged 
the  cut  itself. 

"Are  you  a  doctor?"  asked  Rhoda  faintly. 

"Far  from  it,"  replied  the  young  man  with  a  chuckle, 
tightening  the  upper  bandage  until  Rhoda's  foot  was 
numb.  "But  I  always  carry  this  little  outfit  with  me; 
rattlers  and  scorpions  are  so  thick  over  on  the  ditch. 


4  THE  HEART  OF  THE  DESERT 

Sombody^s  apt  to  be  hurt  anytime.  I'm  Charley  Cart- 
well,  Jack  Newman's  engineer." 

"Oh!"  said  Rhoda  understandingly.  "I'm  so  dizzy 
I  can't  see  you  very  well.  This  is  very  good  of  you. 
Perhaps  now  you'd  go  on  and  get  the  buckboard.  Tell 
them  it's  for  Rhoda,  Rhoda  Tuttle.  I  just  went  out  for 
a  walk  and  then — " 

Her  voice  trailed  into  nothingness  and  she  could  only 
steady  her  swaying  body  with  both  hands  against  the 
rock. 

"Huh!"  grunted  young  Cartwell.  "I  go  on  to  the 
house  and  leave  you  here  in  the  boiling  sun!" 

"Would  you  mind  hurrying?"  asked  Rhoda. 

"Not  at  all,"  returned  Cartwell. 

He  plucked  the  stocking  and  slipper  from  the  yucca 
and  dropped  them  into  his  pocket.  Then  he  stooped 
and  lifted  Rhoda  across  his  broad  chest.  This  roused 
her. 

"Why,  you  can't  do  this!"  she  cried,  struggling  to  free 
herself. 

Cartwell  merely  tightened  his  hold  and  swung  out  at 
a  pace  that  was  half  run,  half  walk. 

"Close  your  eyes  so  the  sun  won't  hurt  them,"  he  said 
peremptorily. 

Dizzily  and  confusedly,  Rhoda  dropped  her  head  back 
on  the  broad  shoulder  and  closed  her  eyes,  with  a  feeling 


THE  VALLEY  OF  THE  PECOS  5 

of  security  that  later  on  was  to  appall  her.  Long  after 
she  was  to  recall  the  confidence  of  this  moment  with 
unbelief  and  horror.  Nor  did  she  dream  how  many 
weary  days  and  hours  she  one  day  was  to  pass  with  this 
same  brazen  sky  over  her,  this  same  broad  shoulder 
under  her  head. 

Cartwell  looked  down  at  the  delicate  face  lying  against 
his  breast,  at  the  soft  yellow  hair  massed  against  his 
sleeve.  Into  his  black  eyes  came  a  look  that  was  passion- 
ately tender,  and  the  strong  brown  hand  that  supported 
Rhoda's  shoulders  trembled. 

In  an  incredibly  short  time  he  was  entering  the  peach 
orchard  that  surrounded  the  ranch-house.  A  young 
man  in  white  flannels  jumped  from  a  hammock  in  which 
he  had  been  dozing. 

*'For  heaven's  sake!'*  he  exclaimed.  "What  does  this 
mean  ?" 

Rhoda  was  too  ill  to  reply.  Cartwell  did  not  slack  his 
giant  stride  toward  the  house. 

"  It  means,  "  he  answered  grimly,  "that  you  folks  must 
be  crazy  to  let  Miss  Tuttle  take  a  walk  in  clothes  like  this! 
She's  got  a  scorpion  sting  in  her  foot." 

The  man  in  flannels  turned  pale.  He  hurried  along 
beside  Cartwell,  then  broke  into  a  run. 

"I'll  telephone  to  Gold  Rock  for  the  doctor  and  tell 
Mrs.  Newman." 


6  THE  HEART  OF  THE  DESERT 

He  started  on  ahead. 

"Never  mind  the  doctor!"  called  Cartwell.  "IVe  at' 
tended  to  the  sting.  Tell  Mrs.  Jack  to  have  hot  water 
ready." 

As  Cartwell  sprang  up  the  porch  steps,  Mrs.  Newman 
ran  out  to  meet  him.  She  was  a  pretty,  rosy  girl,  with 
brown  eyes  and  curly  brown  hair. 

"Rhoda!  Kut-le!"  she  cried.  "Why  didn't  I  warn 
her!  Put  her  on  the  couch  here  in  the  hall,  Kut-le. 
John,  tell  Li  Chung  to  bring  the  hot-water  bottles. 
Here,  Rhoda  dear,  drink  this!" 

For  half  an  hour  the  three,  with  Li  Chung  hovering  in 
the  background,  worked  over  the  girl.  Then  as  they  saw 
her  stupor  change  to  a  natural  sleep,  Katherine  gave  a 
sigh  that  was  almost  a  sob. 

"  She's  all  right!"  she  said.  "  O  Kut-le,  if  you  hadn't 
come  at  that  moment!" 

Cartwell  shook  his  head. 

"It  might  have  gone  hard  with  her,  she's  so  delicate. 
Gee,  I'm  glad  I  ran  out  of  tobacco  this  morning  and 
thought  a  two-mile  tramp  across  the  desert  for  it  worth 
while!" 

The  three  were  on  the  porch  now.  The  young  man  in 
flannels,  who  had  said  little  but  had  obeyed  orders  explic- 
itly eyed  Cartwell  curiously. 

"You're     Newman's     engineer,    aren't    you?"    he 


THE  VALLEY  OF  THE  PECOS  7 

asked.  *'My  name's  DeWitt.  You've  put  us  all  under 
great  obligations,  this  morning." 

Cartwell  took  the  extended  hand. 

"Well,  you  know,"  he  said  carefully,  "a  scorpion  sting 
may  or  may  not  be  serious.  People  have  died  of  them. 
Mrs.  Jack  here  makes  no  more  of  them  than  of  a  mosquito 
bite,  while  Jack  goes  about  like  a  drunken  sailor  with  one 
for  a  day,  then  forgets  it.  Miss  Tuttle  will  be  all  right 
when  she  wakes  up.  I'm  off  till  dinner  time,  Mrs.  Jack. 
Jack  will  think  I've  reverted!" 

DeWitt  stood  for  a  moment  watching  the  tall,  lithe 
figure  move  through  the  peach-trees.  He  was  torn  by  a 
strange  feeling,  half  of  aversion,  half  of  charm  for  the 
dark  young  stranger.    Then: 

"Hold  on,  Cartwell,"  he  cried.  "I'll  drive  you  back 
in  the  buckboard." 

Katherine  Newman,  looking  after  the  two,  raised  her 
eyebrows,  shook  her  head,  then  smiled  and  went  back  to 
Rhoda. 

It  was  mid-afternoon  when  Rhoda  woke.  Katherine 
was  sitting  near  by  with  her  sewing. 

"Well!"  said  Rhoda  wonderingly.  "I'm  all  right, 
after  all!" 

Katherine  jumped  up  and  took  Rhoda' s  thin  little  hand 
joyfully. 

"Indeed  you  are!"  she  cried.     "Thanks  to  Kut-le!" 


8  THE  HEART  OF  THE  DESERT 

"Thanks  to  whom?"  asked  Rhoda.  "It  was  a  tall 
young  man.     He  said  his  name  was  Charley  Cartwell." 

"Yup!"  answered  Katherine.  "Charley  Cartwell! 
His  other  name  is  Kut-le.  He41  be  in  to  dinner  with 
Jack,  tonight.     Isn't  he  good-looking,  though!" 

"  I  don't  know.  I  was  so  dizzy  I  couldn't  see  him.  He 
seemed  very  dark.     Is  he  a  Spaniard?" 

"Spaniard!  No!"  Katherine  was  watching  Rhoda's 
languid  eyes  half  mischievously.  "  He's  part  Mescallero, 
part  Pueblo,  part  Mohave!" 

Rhoda  sat  erect  with  flaming  face. 

"  You  mean  that  he's  an  Indian  and  I  let  him  carry  me! 
Katherine!" 

The  mischief  in  Katherine's  brown  eyes  grew  to 
laughter. 

"I  thought  that  would  get  a  rise  out  of  you,  you 
blessed  tenderfoot!  What  difference  does  that  make? 
He  rescued  you  from  a  serious  predicament;  and  more 
than  that  he's  a  fine  fellow  and  one  of  Jack's  dearest 
friends." 

Rhoda's  delicate  face  still  was  nusned. 

"  An  Indian !     What  did  John  De Witt  say  ?" 

"Oh!"  said  Katherine,  carelessly,  "he  offered  to  drive 
Kut-le  back  to  the  ditch,  and  he  hasn't  got  home  yet. 
They  probably  will  be  very  congenial,  John  being  a  Har- 
vard man  and  Kut-le  a  Yale!" 


THE  VALLEY  OF  THE  PECOS  9 

Rhoda^s  curved  lips  opened,  then  closed  again.  The 
look  of  interest  died  from  her  eyes. 

"  Well,"  she  said  in  her  usual  weary  voice,  "I  think  I'll 
have  a  glass  of  milk,  if  I  may.  Then  I'll  go  out  on  the 
porch.  You  see  I'm  being  all  the  trouble  to  you,  Kather- 
ine,  that  I  said  I  would  be." 

" Trouble !"  protested  Katherine.  "  Why,  Rhoda  Tut- 
tle,  if  I  could  just  see  you  with  the  old  light  in  your 
eyes  I'd  wait  on  you  by  inches  on  my  knees.  I  would, 
honestly." 

Rhoda  rubbed  a  thin  cheek  against  the  warm  hand  that 
still  held  hers,  and  the  mute  thanks  said  more  than  words. 

The  veranda  of  the  Newman  ranch-house  was  deep  and 
shaded  by  green  vines.  From  the  hammock  where  she 
lay,  a  delicate  figure  amid  the  vivid  cushions,  Rhoda 
looked  upon  a  landscape  that  combined  all  the  perfection 
of  verdure  of  a  northern  park  with  a  sense  of  illimitable 
breathing  space  that  should  have  been  fairly  intoxicating 
to  her.  Two  huge  cottonwoods  stood  beside  the  porch. 
Beyond  the  lawn  lay  the  peach  orchard  which  vied  with 
the  bordering  alfalfa  fields  in  fragrance  and  color.  The 
yellow-brown  of  tree- trunks  and  the  white  of  grazing  sheep 
against  vegetation  of  richest  green  were  astonishing  colors 
for  Rhoda  to  find  in  the  desert  to  which  she  had  been 
exiled,  and  in  the  few  days  since  her  arrival  she  had  not 
ceased  to  wonder  at  them. 


10  THE  HEART  OF  THE  DESERT 

DeWitt  crossed  the  orchard,  quickening  his  pace  when 
he  saw  Rhoda.  He  was  a  tall  fellow,  blond  and  well  built^ 
though  not  so  tall  and  lithe  as  CartwelL  His  dark  blue 
eyes  were  disconcertingly  clear  and  direct. 

**  Well,  Rhoda  dear!"  he  exclaimed  as  he  hurried  up  the 
steps.  *'If  you  didn't  scare  this  family!  How  are  you 
feeling  now  ?" 

"I'm  all  right,"  Rhoda  answered  languidly.  **It  was 
good  of  you  all  to  bother  so  about  me.  What  have  you 
been  doing  all  day  ?'* 

"Over  at  the  ditch  with  Jack  and  CartwelL  Say, 
Rhoda,  the  young  fellow  who  rescued  you  is  an  Indian! " 

DeWitt  dropped  into  a  big  chair  by  the  hammock. 
He  watched  the  girl  hopefully.  It  was  such  a  long, 
long  time  since  she  had  been  interested  in  anything! 
But  there  was  no  responsive  light  in  the  deep  gray 
eyes. 

"Katherine  told  me,"  she  replied.  Then,  after  a 
pause,  as  if  she  felt  it  her  duty  to  make  conversation, 
"Did  you  like  him?" 

DeWitt  spoke  slowly,  as  if  he  had  been  considering 
the  matter. 

"  I've  a  lot  of  race  prejudice  in  me,  Rhoda.  I  don't 
like  niggers  or  Chinamen  or  Indians  when  they  get  over 
to  the  white  man's  side  of  the  fence.  They  are  well 
enough  on  their  own  side.    However,  this  Cartwell  chap 


THE  VALLEY  OF  THE  PECOS  11 

seems  all  right.  And  he  rescued  you  from  a  beastly 
serious  situation!" 

"I  don't  know  that  I'm  as  grateful  for  that  as  I  ought 
to  be,"  murmured  Rhoda,  half  to  herself.  "It  would 
have  been  an  easy  solution." 

Her  words  stung  DeWitt.  He  started  forward  and 
seized  the  small  thin  hands  in  both  his  own. 

"Rhoda,  don't!"  he  pleaded  huskily.  "Don't  give 
up!  Don't  lose  hope!  If  I  could  only  give  you  some  of 
my  strength!  Don't  talk  so!  It  just  about  breaks  my 
heart  to  hear  you." 

For  a  time,  Rhoda  did  not  answer.  She  lay  wearily 
watching  the  eager,  pleading  face  so  close  to  her  own* 
Even  in  her  illness,  Rhoda  was  very  lovely.  The  bur- 
nished yellow  hair  softened  the  thinness  of  the  face  that 
was  like  delicately  chiseled  marble.  The  finely  cut  nose^ 
the  exquisite  drooping  mouth,  the  little  square  chin  witk 
its  cleft,  and  the  great  gray  eyes  lost  none  of  their  beauty 
through  her  weakness. 

"John,"  she  said  at  last,  "why  won't  you  look  the 
truth  in  the  face?  I  never  shall  get  well.  I  shall  die 
here  instead  of  in  New  York,  that's  all.  Why  did  you 
follow  me  down  here?  It  only  tortures  you.  And 
truly  it's  not  so  bad  for  me.  You  all  have  lost  your  real- 
ness  to  me,  somehow.     I  shan't  mind  going,  much." 

DcWitt's  strong  face  worked  but  his  voice  was  steady^ 


12  THE  HEART  OF  THE  DESERT 

"I  never  shall  leave  you,"  he  said  simply.  "You  are 
the  one  woman  in  the  world  for  me.  I'd  marry  you 
tomorrow  if  you'd  let  me." 

Rhoda  shook  her  head. 

"You  ought  to  go  away,  John,  and  forget  me.  You 
ought  to  go  marry  some  fine  girl  and  have  a  home  and  a 
family.     I'm  just  a  sick  wreck." 

"  Rhoda,"  and  DeWitt's  earnest  voice  was  convincing, 
"Rhoda,  I'd  pass  up  the  healthiest,  finest  girl  on  earth 
for  you,  just  sick  you.  Why,  can't  you  see  that  your 
helplessness  and  dependence  only  deepen  your  hold  on 
me  ?  Who  wants  a  thing  as  fragile  and  as  lovely  as  you 
are  to  make  a  home!  You  pay  your  way  in  life  just  by 
living!  Beauty  and  sweetness  like  yours  is  enough  for  a 
woman  to  give.  I  don't  want  you  to  do  a  thing  in  the 
world.  Just  give  yourself  to  me  and  let  me  take  care 
of  you.    Rhoda,  dear,  dear  heart!" 

"I  can't  marry  unless  I'm  well,"  insisted  Rhoda, 
"and  I  never  shall  be  well  again.  I  know  that  you  all 
thought  it  was  for  the  best,  bringing  me  down  to  the 
desert,  but  just  as  soon  as  I  can  manage  it  without  hurt- 
ing Katherine's  and  Jack's  feelings  too  much,  I'm  going 
back  to  New  York.  If  you  only  knew  how  the  big 
emptiness  of  this  desert  country  adds  to  my  depression!" 

"If  you  go  back  to  New  York,"  persisted  DeWitt, 
'you  are  going  back  as  my  wife.     I'm  sick  of  seeing  you 


THE  VALLEY  OF  THE  PECOS      13 

dependent  on  hired  caxe.  Why,  Rhoda  dear,  is  it  nothing 
to  you  that,  when  you  haven't  a  near  relative  in  the  world, 
I  would  gladly  die  for  you  ?  '* 

"Oh!"  cried  the  girl,  tears  of  weakness  and  pity  in  her 
eyes,  "you  know  that  it  means  everything  to  me!  But 
I  can't  marry  any  one.  All  I  want  is  just  to  crawl  away 
and  die  in  peace.  I  wish  that  that  Indian  hadn't  come 
upon  me  so  promptly.  I'd  just  have  gone  to  sleep  and 
never  wakened." 

"Don't!  Don't!"  cried  DeWitt.  "I  shall  pick  you 
up  and  hold  you  against  all  the  world,  if  you  say  that!" 

"Hush!"  whispered  Rhoda,  but  her  smile  was  very 
tender.     "Some  one  is  coming  through  the  orchard." 

DeWitt  reluctantly  released  the  slender  hands  and 
leaned  back  in  his  chair.  The  sun  had  crossed  the  peach 
orchard  slowly,  breathlessly.  It  cast  long,  slanting 
shadows  along  the  beautiful  alfalfa  fields  and  turned  the 
willows  by  the  irrigating  ditch  to  a  rosy  gray.  As  the 
sun  sank,  song-birds  piped  and  lizards  scuttled  along 
the  porch  rail.  The  loveliest  part  of  the  New  Mexican 
day  had  come. 

The  two  young  Northerners  watched  the  man  who  was 
swinging  through  the  orchard.  It  was  Cartwell.  De- 
spite his  breadth  of  shoulder,  the  young  Indian  looked 
slender,  though  it  was  evident  that  only  panther  strength 
could  produce   such  panther   grace.     He  crossed  the 


14  THE  HEART  OF  THE  DESERT 

lawn  and  stood  at  the  foot  of  the  steps;  one  hand  crushed 
his  soft  hat  against  his  hip,  and  the  sun  turned  his  close- 
cropped  black  hair  to  blue  bronze.  For  an  instant  none 
of  the  three  spoke.  It  was  as  if  each  felt  the  import  of 
this  meeting  which  was  to  be  continued  through  such 
strange  vicissitudes.  Cartwell,  however,  was  not  looking 
at  DeWitt  but  at  Rhoda,  and  she  returned  his  gaze, 
surprised  at  the  beauty  of  his  face,  with  its  large,  long- 
lashed,  Mohave  eyes  that  were  set  well  apart  and  set 
deeply  as  are  the  eyes  of  those  whose  ancestors  have 
lived  much  in  the  open  glare  of  the  sun;  with  the  straight, 
thin-nostriled  nose;  with  the  stem,  cleanly  modeled 
mouth  and  the  square  chin,  below.  And  looking  into 
the  young  Indian's  deep  black  eyes,  Rhoda  felt  within 
herself  a  vague  stirring  that  for  a  second  wiped  the 
languor  from  her  eyes. 

Cartwell  spoke  first,  easily,  in  the  quiet,  well-modulated 
voice  of  the  Indian. 

''Hello!  All  safe,  I  see!  Mr.  Newman  will  be  here 
shortly."  He  seated  himself  on  the  upper  step  with 
his  back  against  a  pillar  and  fanned  himself  with  his  hat. 
**  Jack's  working  too  hard.  I  want  him  to  go  to  the  coast 
for  a  while  and  let  me  run  the  ditch.  But  he  won't. 
He's  as  pig-headed  as  a  Mohave. " 

"Are  the  Mohaves  so  pig-headed  then?"  asked 
DeWitt,  smiling. 


THE  VALLEY  OF  THE  PECOS      15 

Cartwell  returned  the  smile  with  a  flash  of  white 
teeth. 

"You  bet  they  are!  My  mother  was  part  Mohave  and 
she  used  to  say  that  only  the  Pueblo  in  her  kept  her  from 
being  as  stiff-necked  as  yucca.  You're  all  over  the  diz- 
ziness, Miss  Tuttle?'* 

"Yes,"  said  Rhoda.     "You  were  very  good  to  me." 

Cartwell  shook  his  head. 

"I'm  afraid  I  can't  take  special  credit  for  that.  Will 
you  two  ride  to  the  ditch  with  me  tomorrow  ?  I  think 
Miss  Tuttle  will  be  interested  in  Jack's  irrigation  dream, 
don't  you,  Mr.  DeWitt?" 

DeWitt  answered  a  little  stiffly. 

"It's  out  of  the  question  for  Miss  Tuttle  to  attempt 
such  a  trip,  thank  you." 

But  to  her  own  as  well  as  DeWitt's  astonishment  Rhoda 
spoke  protestingly. 

"You  must  let  me  refuse  my  own  invitations,  John. 
Perhaps  the  ditch  would  interest  me." 

DeWitt  replied  hastily,  "Good  gracious,  Rhoda!  If 
anything  will  interest  you,  don't  let  me  interfere." 

There  was  protest  in  his  voice  against  Rhoda's  being 
interested  in  an  Indian's  suggestion.  Both  Rhoda  and 
Cartwell  felt  this  and  there  was  an  awkward  pause. 
This  was  broken  by  a  faint  halloo  from  the  corral  and 
DeWitt  rose  abruptly 


16  THE  HEART  OF  THE  DESERT 

"1*11  go  down  and  meet  Jack,"  he  said. 

"We'll  do  a  lot  of  stunts  if  you're  willing,"  Cartwell 
said  serenely,  his  eyes  following  DeWitt's  broad  back 
inscrutably.  "The  desert  is  like  a  story-book  if  one 
leams  to  read  it.  If  you  would  be  interested  to  leam, 
I  would  be  keen  to  teach  you." 

Rhoda's  gray  eyes  lifted  to  the  young  man's  somberly. 

"I'm  too  dull  these  days  to  learn  anything,"  she  said. 
"  But  I— I  didn't  used  to  be!  Truly  I  didn't!  I  used  to 
be  so  alive  J  so  strong!  I  believed  in  everything,  myself 
most  of  all!  Truly  I  did!"  She  paused,  wondering  at 
her  lack  of  reticence. 

Cartwell,  however,  was  looking  at  her  with  something 
in  his  gaze  so  quietly  understanding  that  Rhoda  smiled. 
It  was  a  slow  smile  that  lifted  and  deepened  the  corners 
of  Rhoda's  lips,  that  darkened  her  gray  eyes  to  black,  an 
unforgetable  smile  to  the  loveliness  of  which  Rhoda's 
friends  never  could  accustom  themselves.  At  the  sight 
of  it,  Cartwell  drew  a  deep  breath,  then  leaned  toward 
her  and  spoke  with  curious  earnestness. 

"  You  make  me  feel  the  same  way  that  starlight  on  the 
desert  makes  me  feel. " 

Rhoda  replied  in  astonishment,  "Why,  you  mustn't 
speak  that  way  to  me!     It's  not — not — " 

"Not  conventional?"  suggested  Cartwell.  "What 
difference  does  that  make,  between  you  and  me  ?  " 


THE  VALLEY  OF  THE  PECOS      17 

Again  came  the  strange  stirring  in  Rhoda  in  response  to 
Cartwell's  gaze.  He  was  looking  at  her  with  something 
of  tragedy  in  the  dark  young  eyes,  something  of  sternness 
and  determination  in  the  clean-cut  lips.  Rhoda  won- 
dered, afterward,  what  would  have  been  said  if  Katherine 
had  not  chosen  this  moment  to  come  out  on  the  porch. 

"Rhoda,"  she  asked,  "do  you  feel  like  dressing  for 
dinner?  Hello,  Kut-le,  it's  time  you  moved  toward 
soap  and  water,  seems  to  me!" 

"Yessum!"  replied  Cartwell  meekly.  He  rose  and 
helped  Rhoda  from  the  hammock,  then  held  the  door 
open  for  her.  DeWitt  and  Newman  emerged  from  the 
orchard  as  he  crossed  to  Katherine*s  chair. 

"Is  she  very  sick,  Mrs.  Jack?"  he  asked. 

Katherine  nodded  soberly. 

"Desperately  sick.  Her  father  and  mother  were 
killed  in  a  railroad  wreck  a  year  ago.  Rhoda  wasn't 
seriously  hurt  but  she  has  never  gotten  over  the  shock. 
She  has  been  failing  ever  since.  The  docter  feared  con- 
sumption and  sent  her  down  here.  But  she's  just  dying 
by  inches.  Oh,  it's  too  awful!  I  can't  believe  it!  I 
can't  realize  it!" 

Cartwell  stood  in  silence  for  a  moment,  his  lips  com- 
pressed, his  eyes  inscrutable. 

Then,  "I've  met  her  at  last,"  he  said.  "It  makes  me 
believe  in  Fate. " 

2 


18     THE  HEART  OF  THE  DESERT 

Katherine's  pretty  lips  parted  in  amazement. 

"Goodness!  Are  you  often  taken  this  way!"  she 
gasped. 

"Never  before!"  replied  Cartwell  serenely.  "Jack 
said  she'd  broken  her  engagement  to  DeWitt  because  of 
her  illness,  so  it's  a  fair  war! " 

"Kut~Ie!"  exclaimed  Katherine.  "Don't  talk  like  a 
yellow-backed  novel!    It's  not  a  life  or  death  affair." 

"You  can't  tell  as  to  that,"  answered  Cartwell  with  a 
curious  litde  smile.  "You  mustn't  forget  that  I'm  an 
Indian. " 

And  he  turned  to  greet  the  two  men  who  were  mounting 
the  steps. 


CHAPTER  n 

THE   CAUCASIAN   WAY 

"\  X  7"HEN  Rhoda  entered  the  dining-room  some  of  her 
pallor  seemed  to  have  left  her.  She  was  dressed 
in  a  gown  of  an  elusive  pink  that  gave  a  rose  flush  to  the 
marble  fineness  of  her  face. 

Katherine  was  chatting  with  a  wiry,  middle-aged  man 
whom  she  introduced  to  Rhoda  as  Mr.  Porter,  an  Arizona 
mining  man.  Porter  stood  as  if  stunned  for  a  moment 
by  Rhoda's  delicate  loveliness.  Then,  as  was  the  custom 
of  every  man  who  met  Rhoda,  he  looked  vaguely  about 
for  something  to  do  for  her.  Jack  Newman  forestalled 
him  by  taking  Rhoda's  hand  and  leading  her  to  the  table. 
Jack^s  curly  blond  hair  looked  almost  white  in  contrast 
with  his  tanned  face.  He  was  not  as  tall  as  either 
Cartwell  or  DeWitt  but  he  was  strong  and  clean-cut  and 
had  a  boyish  look  despite  the  heavy  responsibilities  of 
his  five-thousand-acre  ranch. 

"There,"  he  said,  placing  Rhoda  beside  Porter;  "just 

attach  Porter's  scalp  to  your  belt  with  the  rest  of  your 

collection.     It'll  be  a  new  experience  to  him.     Don't  be 

afraid.  Porter." 

Billy  Porter  was  not  in  the  least  embarrassed. 

19 


«0  THE  HEART  OF  THE  DESERT 

"  I've  come  too  near  to  losing  my  scalp  to  the  Apaches 
to  be  scared  by  Miss  Tuttle.  Anyhow  I  gave  her  my 
scalp  without  a  yelp  the  minute  I  laid  eyes  on  her." 

"  Here!  That's  not  fair!"  cried  John  DeWitt.  "  The 
rest  of  us  had  to  work  to  get  her  to  take  ours!" 

"Our  what?"  asked  Cartwell,  entering  the  room  at 
the  last  word.  He  was  looking  very  cool  and  well 
groomed  in  white  flannels. 

Billy  Porter  stared  at  the  newcomer  and  dropped  his 
soup-spoon  with  a  splash.  "  What  in  thunder!"  Rhoda 
heard  him  mutter. 

Jack  Newman  spoke  hastily. 

"This  is  Mr.  Cartwell,  our  irrigation  engineer,  Mr. 
Porter." 

Porter  responded  to  the  young  Indian's  courteous  bow 
with  a  surly  nod,  and  proceeded  with  his  soup. 

"I'd  as  soon  eat  with  a  nigger  as  an  Injun,"  he  said 
to  Rhoda  under  cover  of  some  laughing  remark  of  Kath- 
erine's  to  Cartwell. 

"  He  seems  to  be  nice,"  said  Rhoda  vaguely.  "  Maybe, 
though,  Katherine  is  a  little  liberal,  making  him  one  of 
the  family." 

"Is  there  any  hunting  at  all  in  this  open  desert  coun- 
try?** asked  DeWitt.  "I  certainly  hate  to  go  back  to 
New  York  with  nothing  but  sunburn  to  show  for  my 
trip!" 


THE  CAUCASIAN  WAY      .  21 

"Coyotes,  wildcats,  rabbits  and  partridges,^  volun- 
teered Cartwell.  "I  know  where  there  is  a  nest  of  wild- 
cats up  on  the  first  mesa.  And  I  know  an  Indian  who  will 
tan  the  pelts  for  you,  like  velvet.  A  jack-rabbit  pelt 
well  tanned  is  an  exquisite  thing  too,  by  the  way.  I  will 
go  on  a  hunt  with  you  whenever  the  ditch  can  be  left." 

"And  while  they  are  chasing  round  after  jacks.  Miss 
Tutde,*'  cut  in  Billy  Porter  neatly,  "I  will  take  you  any- 
where you  want  to  go.  I'll  show  you  things  these  kids 
never  dreamed  of!  I  knew  this  country  in  the  days  of 
Apache  raids  and  the  pony  express." 

"That  will  be  fine!"  replied  Rhoda.  "But  I'd  rather 
hear  the  stories  than  take  any  trips.  Did  you  spend 
your  boyhood  in  New  Mexico?  Did  you  see  real 
Indian  fights?  Did  you — ?"  She  paused  with  an 
involuntary  glance  at  Cartwell. 

Porter,  too,  looked  at  the  dark  young  face  across  the 
table  and  something  in  its  inscrutable  calm  seemed  to 
madden  him. 

"My  boyhood  here?  Yes,  and  a  happy  boyhood  it 
was!  I  came  home  from  the  range  one  day  and  found 
my  little  fifteen-year-old  sister  and  a  little  neighbor 
friend  of  hers  hung  up  by  the  back  of  their  necks  on 
butcher  hooks.  They  had  been  tortured  to  death  by 
Apaches.     I  don't  like  Indians!" 

There  was  an  awkward  pause  at  the  dinner  table.     Li 


22  THE  HEART  OF  THE  DESERT 

Chung  removed  the  soup-plates  noiselessly.  Cartwell's 
brown  fingers  tapped  the  tablecloth.  But  he  was  not 
looking  at  Porter's  scowling  face.  He  was  watching 
Rhoda's  gray  eyes  which  were  fastened  on  him  with  a 
look  half  of  pity,  half  of  aversion.  When  he  spoke  it 
was  as  if  he  cared  little  for  the  opinions  of  the  others 
but  would  set  himself  right  with  her  alone. 

*'  My  father,"  he  said,  "  came  home  from  the  hunt,  one 
day,  to  find  his  mother  and  three  sisters  lying  in  their 
own  blood.  The  whites  had  gotten  them.  They  all 
had  been  scalped  and  were  dead  except  the  baby,  three 
years  old.     She — she — my  father  killed  her." 

A  gasp  of  horror  went  round  the  table. 

''I  think  such  stories  are  inexcusable  here!"  ex- 
claimed Katherine  indignantly. 

^'So  do  I,  Mrs.  Jack,"  replied  Cartwell.  "I  won't  do 
it  again." 

Porter's  face  stained  a  deep  mahogany  and  he  bowed 
stiffly  to  Katherine. 

"I  beg  your  pardon,  Mrs.  Newman!" 

"I  feel  as  if  I  were  visiting  a  group  of  anarchists," 
said  Rhoda  plaintively,  "and  had  innocently  passed 
round  a  bomb  on  which  to  make  conversation!" 

Jack  Newman  laughed,  the  tension  relaxed,  and  in  a 
moment  the  dinner  was  proceeding  merrily,  though 
Porter  and  Cartwell  carefully  avoided  speaking  to  each 


THE  CAUCASIAN  WAY  2S 

other.  Most  of  the  conversation  centered  around 
Rhoda.  Katherine  always  had  been  devoted  to  her 
friend.  And  though  men  always  had  paid  homage  to 
Rhoda,  since  her  illness  had  enhanced  her  delicacy,  and 
had  made  her  so  appealingly  helpless,  they  were  drawn  to 
her  as  surely  as  bee  to  flower.  Old  and  young,  dignified 
and  happy-go-lucky,  all  were  moved  irresistibly  to  do 
something  for  her,  to  coddle  her,  to  undertake  impossible 
missions,  self-imposed. 

Porter  from  his  place  of  vantage  beside  her  kept  her 
plate  heaped  with  delicacies,  calmly  removed  the  breast 
of  chicken  from  his  own  plate  to  hers,  all  but  fed  her 
with  a  spoon  when  she  refused  to  more  than  nibble  at 
her  meal. 

DeWitt's  special  night-mare  was  that  drafts  were 
blowing  on  her.  He  kept  excusing  himself  from  the 
table  to  open  and  close  windows  and  doors,  to  hang 
over  her  chair  so  as  to  feel  for  himself  if  the  wind  touched 
her. 

Katherine  and  Jack  kept  Li  Chung  trotting  to  the 
kitchen  for  different  dainties  with  which  to  tempt  her. 
Only  Cartwell  did  nothing.  He  kept  up  what  seemed  to 
be  his  usual  fire  of  amiable  conversation  and  watched 
Rhoda  constantly  through  inscrutable  black  eyes.  But 
he  made  no  attempt  to  serve  her. 

Rhoda  was  scarcely  conscious  of  the  deference  showed 


24  THE  HEART  OF  THE  DESERT 

her,  partly  because  she  had  received  it  so  long,  partly 
because  that  detached  frame  of  mind  of  the  hopeless 
invalid  made  the  life  about  her  seem  shadowy  and  unreal. 
Nothing  really  mattered  much.  She  Wy  back  in  her 
chair  with  the  little  wistful  smile,  the  somber  light  in  her 
eyes  that  had  become  habitual  to  her. 

After  dinner  was  finished  Katherine  led  the  way  to  the 
living-room.  To  his  unspeakable  pride,  Rhoda  took 
Billy  Porter's  arm  and  he  guided  her  listless  footsteps 
carefully,  casting  pitying  glances  on  his  less  favored 
friends.  Jack  wheeled  a  Morris  chair  before  the  fire- 
place— desert  nights  are  cool — and  John  DeWitt  hurried 
for  a  shawl,  while  Katherine  gave  every  one  orders  that 
no  one  heeded  in  the  least. 

Cartwell  followed  after  the  others,  slowly  lighted  a 
cigarette,  then  seated  himself  at  the  piano.  For  the 
rest  of  the  evening  he  made  no  attempt  to  join  in  the 
fragmentary  conversation.  Instead  he  sang  softly,  as 
if  to  himself,  touching  the  keys  so  gently  that  their  notes 
seemed  only  the  echo  of  his  mellow  voice.  He  sang  bits 
of  Spanish  love-songs,  of  Mexican  lullabies.  But  for 
the  most  part  he  kept  to  Indian  melodies — wistful  love- 
songs  and  chants  that  touched  the  listener  with  strange 
poignancy. 

There  was  little  talk  among  the  group  around  the  fire. 
The    three    men    smoked    peacefully.     Katherine    and 


THE  CAUCASIAN  WAY  25 

Jack  sat  close  to  each  other,  on  the  davenport,  content 
to  be  together.  DeWitt  lounged  where  he  could  watch 
Rhoda,  as  did  Billy  Porter,  the  latter  hanging  on  every 
word  and  movement  of  this  lovely,  fragile  being,  as 
if  he  would  carry  forever  in  his  heart  the  memory  of  her 
charm. 

Rhoda  herself  watched  the  fire.  She  was  tired,  tired 
to  the  inmost  fiber  of  her  being.  The  only  real  desire 
left  her  was  that  she  might  crawl  off  somewhere  and  die 
in  peace.  But  these  good  friends  of  hers  had  set  their 
faces  against  the  inevitable  and  it  was  only  decency  to 
humor  them.  Once,  quite  unconscious  that  the  others 
were  watching  her,  she  lifted  her  hands  and  eyed  them 
idly.  They  were  almost  transparent  and  shook  a  little. 
The  group  about  the  fire  stirred  pityingly.  John  and 
Katherine  and  Jack  remembered  those  shadowy  hands 
when  they  had  been  rosy  and  full  of  warmth  and  tender- 
ness. Billy  Porter  leaned  across  and  with  his  hard 
brown  palms  pressed  the  trembling  fingers  down  into 
Rhoda's  lap.     She  looked  up  in  astonishment. 

"Don't  hold  'em  so!"  said  Billy  hoarsely.  "I  can't 
stand  to  see  'em!" 

"They  are  pretty  bad,"  said  Rhoda,  smiling.  It  was 
her  rare,  slow,  unforgetable  smile.  Porter  swallowed 
audibly.  Cartwell  at  the  piano  drifted  from  a  Mohave 
lament  to  La  Paloma. 


26  THE  HEART  OF  THE  DESERT 

"The  day  that  I  left  my  home  for  the  rolling  sea, 
I  said,  *  Mother  dear,  O  pray  to  thy  God  for  mel* 
But  e'er  I  set  sail  I  went  a  fond  leave  to  take 
Of  Nina,  who  wept  as  if  her  poor  heart  would  break!' ' 

The  mellow,  haunting  melody  caught  Rhoda's  fancy 
at  once,  as  Cartwell  knew  it  would.  She  turned  to  the 
sinewy  figure  at  the  piano.  DeWitt  was  wholesome  and 
strong,  but  this  young  Indian  seemed  vitaHty  itself. 

"Nina,  if  I  should  die  and  o'er  ocean's  foam 
Softly  at  dusk  a  fair  dove  should  come, 
Open  thy  window,  Nina,  for  it  would  b* 
My  faithful  soul  come  back  to  thee " 

Something  in  Cartwell's  voice  stirred  Rhoda  as  had 
his  eyes.  For  the  first  time  in  months  Rhoda  felt  poig- 
nantly that  it  would  be  hard  to  be  cut  down  with  all  her 
life  unlived.  The  mellow  voice  ceased  and  Cartwell, 
rising,  lighted  a  fresh  cigarette. 

"I  am  going  to  get  up  with  the  rabbits,  tomorrow," 
he  said,  "so  I'll  trot  to  bed  now." 

DeWitt,  impelled  by  that  curious  sense  of  liking  for 
the  young  Indian  that  fought  down  his  aversion,  said, 
"The  music  was  bully,  Cartwell!"  but  Cartwell  only 
smiled  as  if  at  the  hint  of  patronage  in  the  voice  and 
strolled  to  his  own  room. 

Rhoda  slept  late  the  following  morning.     She  had  not. 


THE  CAUCASIAN  WAY  «7 

jn  her  three  nights  in  the  desert  country,  become  accus- 
tomed to  the  silence  that  is  not  the  least  of  the  desert's 
splendors.  It  seemed  to  her  that  the  nameless  unknown 
Mystery  toward  which  her  life  was  drifting  was  embodied 
in  this  infinite  silence.  So  sleep  would  not  come  to  her 
until  dawn.  Then  the  stir  of  the  wind  in  the  trees,  the 
bleat  of  sheep,  the  trill  of  mocking-birds  lulled  her  to 
sleep. 

As  the  brilliancy  of  the  light  in  her  room  increased 
there  drifted  across  her  uneasy  dreams  the  lilting  notes 
of  a  whistled  call.  Pure  and  liquidly  sweet  they  persisted 
until  there  came  to  Rhoda  that  faint  stir  of  hope  and 
longing  that  she  had  experienced  the  day  before.  She 
opened  her  eyes  and  finally,  as  the  call  continued,  she 
crept  languidly  from  her  bed  and  peered  from  behind 
the  window-shade.  Cartwell,  in  his  khaki  suit,  his 
handsome  head  bared  to  the  hot  sun,  leaned  against  a 
peach-tree  while  he  watched  Rhoda's  window. 

"I  wonder  what  he  wakened  me  for?"  she  thought 
half  resentfully.  "  I  can't  go  to  sleep  again,  so  I  may  as 
well  dress  and  have  breakfast." 

Hardly  had  she  seated  herself  at  her  solitary  meal 
when  Cartwell  appeared. 

"Dear  me!"  he  exclaimed.  "The  birds  and  Mr. 
DeWitt  have  been  up  this  long  time." 

"What  is  John  doing?"  asked  Rhoda  carelessly. 


28  THE  HEART  OF  THE  DESERT 

"He's  gone  up  on  the  first  mesa  for  the  wildcats  I 
spoke  of  last  night.  I  thought  perhaps  you  might  care 
to  take  a  drive  before  it  got  too  hot.  You  didn't  sleep 
well  last  night,  did  you  ?  " 

Rhoda  answered  whimsically. 

"It's  the  silence.  It  thunders  at  me  so!  I  will  get 
used  to  it  soon.  Perhaps  I  ought  to  drive.  I  suppose  I 
ought  to  try  everything." 

Not  at  all  discouraged,  apparently,  by  this  lack  of 
enthusiasm,  Cartwell  said: 

"  I  won't  let  you  overdo.  I'll  have  the  top-buggy  for 
you  and  we'll  go  slowly  and  carefully." 

"No,"  said  Rhoda,  suddenly  recalling  that,  after  all, 
Cartwell  was  an  Indian,  "  I  don't  think  I  will  go.  Kath- 
arine will  have  all  sorts  of  objections." 

The  Indian  smiled  sardonically. 

"  I  already  have  Mrs.  Jack's  permission.  Billy  Porter 
will  be  in,  in  a  moment.  If  you  would  rather  have  a 
white  man  than  an  Indian  as  escort,  I'm  quite  willing  to 
retreat." 

Rhoda  flushed  delicately. 

"Your  frankness  is  almost — ^almost  impertinent,  Mr. 
Cartwell." 

"I  don't  mean  it  that  way  at  all!"  protested  the 
Indian.  "It's  just  that  I  saw  so  plainly  what  was  going 
on  in  your  mind  and  it  piqued  me.     If  it  will  be  one  bit 


THE  CAUCASIAN  WAY  29 

pleasanter  for  you  with  Billy,  I'll  go  right  out  and  hunt 
him  up  for  you  now." 

The  young  man's  naivetd  completely  disarmed 
Rhoda. 

"Don't  be  silly!"  she  said.  "Go  get  your  famous 
top-buggy  and  I'll  be  ready  in  a  minute." 

In  a  short  time  Rhoda  and  Cartwell,  followed  by  many 
injunctions  from  Katherine,  started  off  toward  the 
irrigating  ditch.  At  a  slow  pace  they  drove  through 
the  peach  orchard  into  the  desert.  As  they  reached  the 
open  trail,  thrush  and  to-hee  fluttered  from  the  cholla. 
Chipmunk  and  cottontail  scurried  before  them.  Over- 
head a  hawk  dipped  in  its  reeling  flight.  Cartwell 
watched  the  girl  keenly.  Her  pale  face  was  very  lovely 
in  the  brilliant  morning  light,  though  the  somberness  of 
her  wide,  gray  eyes  was  deepened.  That  same  muteness 
and  patience  in  her  trouble  which  so  touched  other  men 
touched  Cartwell,  but  he  only  said: 

"  There  never  was  anything  bigger  and  finer  than  this 
open  desert,  was  there?" 

Rhoda  turned  from  staring  at  the  distant  mesas  and 
eyed  the  young  Indian  wonderingly. 

"Why!"  she  exclaimed,  "I  hate  it!  You  know  that 
sick  fear  that  gets  you  when  you  try  to  picture  eternity 
to  yourself  ?  That's  the  way  this  barrenness  and  awful 
distance  affects  me.     I  hate  it!" 


30  THE  HEART  OF  THE  DESERT 

"But  you  won't  hate  it!"  cried  Cartwell.  "You  must 
let  me  show  you  its  bigness.  It's  as  healing  as  the  hand 
of  God." 

Rhoda  shuddered. 

"Don't  talk  about  it,  please!  I'll  try  to  think  of 
something  else." 

They  drove  in  silence  for  some  moments.  Rhoda,  her 
thin  hands  clasped  in  her  lap,  resolutely  stared  at  the 
young  Indian's  profile.  In  the  unreal  world  in  which 
she  drifted,  she  needed  some  thought  of  strength,  some 
hope  beyond  her  own,  to  which  to  cling.  She  was  lonely 
— ^lonely  as  some  outcast  watching  with  sick  eyes  the 
joy  of  the  world  to  which  he  is  denied.  As  she  stared  at 
the  stern  young  profile  beside  her,  into  her  heart  crept 
the  now  familiar  thrill. 

Suddenly  Cartwell  turned  and  looked  at  her  quizzically. 

"  Well,  what  are  your  conclusions  ?  " 

Rhoda  shook  her  head. 

"  I  don't  know,  except  that  it's  hard  to  realize  that  you 
are  an  Indian." 

Cartwell's  voice  was  ironical. 

"The  only  good  Indian  is  a  dead  Indian,  you  know. 
I'm  liable  to  break  loose  any  time,  believe  me!" 

Rhoda's  eyes  were  on  the  far  lavender  line  where  the 
mesa  melted  into  the  mountains. 

"Yes,  and  then  what?"  she  asked. 


THE  CAUCASIAN  WAY  31 

CartwelPs  eyes  narrowed,  but  Rhoda  did  not  see. 

"Then  I'm  liable  to  follow  Indian  tradition  and  take 
whatever  I  want,  by  whatever  means!" 

"My!  My!"  said  Rhoda,  "that  sounds  bludgy!  And 
what  are  you  liable  to  want?" 

"  Oh,  I  want  the  same  thing  that  a  great  many  white 
men  want.  I'm  going  to  have  it  myself,  though!"  His 
handsome  face  glowed  curiously  as  he  looked  at  Rhoda. 

But  the  girl  was  giving  his  words  small  heed.  Her 
eyes  still  were  turned  toward  the  desert,  as  though  she 
had  forgotten  her  companion.  Sand  whirls  crossed  the 
distant  levels,  ceaselessly.  Huge  and  menacing,  they 
swirled  out  from  the  mesa's  edge,  crossed  the  desert 
triumphantly,  then,  at  contact  with  rock  or  cholla 
thicket,  collapsed  and  disappeared.  Endless,  merciless, 
hopeless  the  yellow  desert  quivered  against  the  bronze 
blue  sky.  For  the  first  time  dazed  hopelessness  gave 
way  in  Rhoda  to  fear.  The  young  Indian,  watching  the 
girl's  face,  beheld  in  it  what  even  DeWitt  never  had 
seen  there — ^beheld  deadly  fear.  He  was  silent  for  a 
moment,  then  he  leaned  toward  her  and  put  a  strong 
brown  hand  over  her  trembling  little  fists.  His  voice 
was  deep  and  soft 

"Don't,"  he  said,  "don't!" 

Perhaps  it  was  the  subtle,  not-to-be-fathomed  influence 
of  the  desert  which   fights    all   sham;  perhaps   it  was 


82     THE  HEART  OF  THE  DESERT 

that  Rhoda  merely  had  reached  the  limit  of  her  heroic 
self-containment  and  that,  had  DeWitt  or  Newman  been 
with  her,  she  would  have  given  way  in  the  same  manner; 
perhaps  it  was  that  the  young  Indian's  presence  had  in  it 
a  quality  that  roused  new  life  in  her.  Whatever  the  cause, 
the  listless  melancholy  suddenly  left  Rhoda's  gray  eyes 
and  they  were  wild  and  black  with  fear. 

"I  can't  die!"  she  panted.  "I  can't  leave  my  life 
unlived!  I  can't  crawl  on  much  longer  like  a  sick 
animal  without  a  soul.     I  want  to  live!    To  live!" 

"  Look  at  me !"  said  Cartwell.  "  Look  at  me,  not  at  the 
desert!"  Then  as  she  turned  to  him,  "Listen,  Rhoda! 
You  shall  not  die!  I  will  make  you  well!  You  shall  not 
die!" 

For  a  long  minute  the  two  gazed  deep  into  each  other's 
eyes,  and  the  sense  of  quickening  blood  touched 
Rhoda's  heart.  Then  they  both  woke  to  the  sound  of 
hoof-beats  behind  them  and  John  DeWitt,  with  a  wild- 
cat thrown  across  his  saddle,  rode  up. 

"Hello!  I've  shouted  one  lung  out!  I  thought  you 
people  were  petrified!"  He  looked  curiously  from 
Rhoda's  white  face  to  Cartwell's  inscrutable  one.  "  Do 
you  think  you  ought  to  have  attempted  this  trip, 
Rhoda  ?"  he  asked  gently. 

"Oh,  we've  taken  it  very  slowly,"  answered  the 
Indian.     "  And  we  are  going  to  turn  back  now." 


THE  CAUCASIAN  WAY  33 

"I  don't  think  IVe  overdone,"  said  Rhoda.  "But 
perhaps  we  have  had  enough.'* 

"All  right,"  said  Cartwell.  "If  Mr.  DeWitt  will 
change  places  with  me,  I'll  ride  on  to  the  ditch  and  he 
can  drive  you  back." 

DeWitt  assented  eagerly  and,  the  change  made, 
Cartwell  lifted  his  hat  and  was  gone.  Rhoda  and  John 
returned  in  a  silence  that  lasted  until  DeWitt  lifted 
Rhoda  from  the  buggy  to  the  veranda.     Then  he  said: 

"Rhoda,  I  don't  like  to  have  you  go  off  alone  with 
Cartwell.     I  wish  you  wouldn't." 

Rhoda  smiled. 

"John,  don't  be  silly!  He  goes  about  with  Katherine 
all  the  time." 

John  only  shook  his  head  and  changed  the  subject. 
That  afternoon,  however,  Billy  Porter  buttonholed  De- 
Witt  in  the  corral  where  the  New  Yorker  was  watching 
the  Arizonian  saddle  his  fractious  horse.  When  the 
horse  was  ready  at  the  post,  "Look  here,  DeWitt,"  said 
Billy,  an  embarrassed  look  in  his  honest  brown  eyes, 
"  I  don't  want  you  to  think  I'm  buttin'  in,  but  some  one 
ought  to  watch  that  young  Injun.  Anybody  with  one 
eye  can  see  he's  crazy  about  Miss  Rhoda." 

John  was  too  startled  to  be  resentful. 

"What  do  you  mean?"  he  exclaimed.  "Cartwell  is  a 
great  friend  of  the  Newmans'." 


S4  THE  HEART  OF  THE  DESERT 

"That*s  why  I  came  to  you.  They^re  plumb  locoed 
about  the  fellow,  like  the  rest  of  the  Easterners 
around  here." 

"Do  you  know  anything  against  him?"  insisted 
DeWitt. 

"Why,  man,  he's  an  Injun,  and  half  Apache  at  that! 
Thaf  s  enough  to  know  against  him!" 

"What  makes  you  think  he's  interested  in  Miss 
Tuttle?"  asked  John. 

Porter  flushed  through  his  tan. 

"Well,"  he  said  sheepishly,  "I  seen  him  come  down 
the  hall  at  dawn  this  morning.  Us  Westerners  are 
early  risers,  you  know,  and  when  he  reached  Miss 
Tuttle's  door,  he  pulled  a  little  slipper  out  of  his  pocket 
and  kissed  it  and  put  it  in  front  of  the  sill." 

DeWitt  scowled,  then  he  laughed. 

"He's  no  worse  than  the  rest  of  us  that  way!  I'll 
watch  him,  though  perhaps  it's  only  your  prejudice 
against  Indians  and  not  really  a  matter  to  worry  about." 

Porter  sighed  helplessly. 

"All  right!  All  right!  Just  remember,  DeWitt,  I 
warned  you!" 

He  mounted,  then  held  in  his  horse  while  the  worried 
look  gave  place  to  one  so  sad,  yet  so  manly,  that  John 
never  forgot  it. 

"I  hope  you  appreciate  that  girl,  DeWitt.     She — she's 


THE  CAUCASIAN  WAY  S5 

a  thoroughbred!  My  God!  When  you  think  of  a 
sweet  thing  like  that  dying  and  these  Injun  squaws 
living!  I  hope  you'll  watch  her,  DeWitt.  If  anything 
happens  to  her  through  you  not  watching  her,  I'll  come 
back  on  you  for  it!  I  ain't  got  any  rights  except  the 
rights  that  any  living  man  has  got  to  take  care  of  any 
white  thing  like  her.  They  get  me  hard  when  they're 
dainty  like  that.  And  she's  the  daintiest  I  ever  seen!" 
He  rode  away,  shaking  his  head  ominously. 


CHAPTER  III 

INDIAN  AND   CAUCASIAN 

T^eWITT  debated  with  himself  for  some  time  as  to 
^"^  whether  or  not  he  ought  to  speak  to  Jack  of  Porter's 
warning.  Finally  he  decided  that  Porter's  suspicions 
would  only  anger  Jack,  who  was  intensely  loyal  to  his 
friends.  He  determined  to  keep  silence  until  he  had 
something  more  tangible  on  which  to  found  his  com- 
plaint than  Billy's  bitter  prejudice  against  all  Indians. 
He  had  implicit  faith  in  Rhoda's  love  for  himself.  If 
any  vague  interest  in  life  could  come  to  her  through  the 
young  Indian,  he  felt  that  he  could  endure  his  presence. 
In  the  meantime  he  would  guard  Rhoda  without 
cessation. 

In  the  days  that  followed,  Rhoda  grew  perceptibly 
weaker,  and  her  friends  went  about  with  aching  hearts 
under  an  assumed  cheerfulness  of  manner  that  deceived 
Rhoda  least  of  any  one.  Rhoda  herself  did  not  com- 
plain and  this  of  itself  added  a  hundredfold  to  the  pathos 
of  the  situation.  Her  unfailing  sweetness  and  patience 
touched  the  healthy,  hardy  young  people  who  were  so 
devoted  to  her  more  than  the  most  justifiable  impatience 
on  her  part. 

37 


38  THE  HEART  OF  THE  DESERT 

Time  and  again  Katherine  saw  DeWitt  and  Jack 
leave  the  girl's  side  with  tears  in  their  eyes.  But  Cart- 
well  watched  the  girl  with  inscrutable  gaze. 

Rhoda  still  hated  the  desert.  The  very  unchanging 
loveliness  of  the  days  wearied  her.  Morning  succeeded 
morning  and  noon  followed  noon,  with  always  the  same 
soft  breeze  stirring  the  orchard,  always  the  clear  yellow 
sunlight  burning  and  dazzling  her  eyes,  always  the  un- 
varying monotony  of  bleating  sheep  and  lowing  herds 
and  at  evening  the  hoot  of  owls.  The  brooding  tender- 
ness of  the  sky  she  did  not  see.  The  throbbing  of  the 
great,  quiet  southern  stars  stirred  her  only  with  a  sense 
of  helpless  loneliness  that  was  all  but  unendurable. 
And  still,  from  who  knows  what  source,  she  found 
strength  to  meet  the  days  and  her  friends  with  that  un- 
failing sweetness  that  was  as  poignant  as  the  clinging 
fingers  of  a  sick  child. 

Jack,  Katherine,  DeWitt,  Cartwell,  all  were  unweary- 
ing in  their  effort  to  amuse  her.  And  yet  for  some  reason 
Cartwell  alone  was  able  to  rouse  her  listless  eyes  to  inter- 
est. Even  DeWitt  found  himself  eagerly  watching  the 
young  Indian,  less  to  guard  Rhoda  than  to  discover 
what  in  the  Apache  so  piqued  his  curiosity.  He  had 
to  admit,  however  reluctantly,  that  Kut-le,  as  he  and 
Rhoda  now  called  him  with  the  others,  was  a  charming 
companion. 


INDIAN  AND  CAUCASIAN  89 

Neither  DeWitt  nor  Rhoda  ever  before  had  known  an 
Indian.  Most  of  their  ideas  of  the  race  were  founded  on 
childhood  reading  of  Cooper.  Kut-le  was  quite  as  cul- 
tured, quite  as  well-mannered  and  quite  as  intelligent  as 
any  of  their  Eastern  friends.  But  in  many  other  qualities 
he  differed  from  them.  He  possessed  a  frank  pride  in 
himself  and  his  blood  that  might  have  belonged  to  some 
medieval  prince  who  would  not  take  the  trouble  out- 
wardly to  underestimate  himself.  Closely  allied  to  this 
was  his  habit  of  truthfulness.  This  was  not  a  blatant 
bluntness  that  irritated  the  hearer  but  a  habit  of  valuing 
persons  and  things  at  their  intrinsic  worth,  a  habit  of 
mental  honesty  as  bizarre  to  Rhoda  and  John  as  was  the 
young  Indian's  frank  pride. 

His  attitude  toward  Rhoda  piqued  her  while  it  amused 
her.  Since  her  childhood,  men  had  treated  her  with 
deference,  had  paid  almost  abject  tribute  to  her  loveli- 
ness  and  bright  charm.  Cartwell  was  delightfully  consid- 
erate of  her.  He  was  uniformly  courteous  to  her.  But 
it  was  the  courtesy  of  noblesse  oblige,  without  a  trace 
of  deference  in  it. 

One  afternoon  Kut-le  sat  alone  on  the  veranda  with 
Rhoda. 

"Do  you  know,"  he  said,  rumpling  his  black  hair, 
"that  I  think  DeWitt  has  decided  that  I  will  bear 
watching!" 


40  THE  HEART  OF  THE  DESERT 

"Well/'  answered  Rhoda  idly,  "and  won't  you?" 

Kut-le  chuckled. 

"Would  you  prefer  that  I  show  the  lurking  savage 
beneath  this  false  shell  of  good  manners?" 

Rhoda  smiled  back  at  him. 

"Of  course  you  are  an  Indian,  after  all.  It's  rather 
too  bad  of  you  not  to  live  up  to  any  of  our  ideals.  Your 
manners  are  as  nice  as  John  DeWitt's.  I'd  be  quite 
frantic  about  you  if  you  would  drop  them  and  go  on  the 
war-path." 

Kut-le  threw  back  his  head  and  laughed. 

"Oh,  you  ignorant  young  thing!  It's  lucky  for  you — 
and  for  me — that  you  have  come  West  to  grow  up  and 
complete  your  education!  But  DeWitt  needn't  worry. 
I  don't  need  watching  yet!  First,  I'm  going  to  make 
you  well.  I  know  how  and  he  doesn't.  After  that  is 
done,  he'd  better  watch!" 

Rhoda's  eyebrows  began  to  go  up.  Kut-le  never  had 
recalled  by  word  or  look  her  outburst  in  the  desert  the 
morning  of  their  first  ride  together,  though  they  had 
taken  several  since.  Rhoda  seldom  mentioned  her 
illness  now  and  her  friends  respected  her  feeling.  But 
now  Kut-le  smiled  at  her  disapproving  brows. 

"I've  waited  for  the  others  to  get  busy,"  he  said,  "but 
they  act  foolish.  Half  the  trouble  with  you  is  mental. 
You  need  a  boss.     Now,  you  don't  eat  enough,  in  spite 


INDIAN  AND  CAUCASIAN  41 

of  the  eggs  and  beef  and  fruit  that  that  dear  Mrs.  Jack 
sets  before  you.     See  how  your  hands  shake  this  minute  I " 

Rhoda  could  think  of  no  reply  sufl5ciently  crushing 
for  this  forward  young  Indian.  While  she  was  turning 
several  over  in  her  mind,  Kut-le  went  into  the  house  and 
returned  with  a  glass  of  milk. 

"I  wish  you'd  drink  this/'  he  said. 

Rhoda's  brows  still  were  arched  haughtily. 

"No,  thank  you,"  she  said  frigidly;  "I  don't  wish  you 
to  undertake  the  care  of  my  health." 

Kut-le  made  no  reply  but  held  the  glass  steadily  before 
her.  Involuntarily,  Rhoda  looked  up.  The  young 
Indian  was  watching  her  with  eyes  so  clear,  so  tender, 
with  that  strange  look  of  tragedy  belying  their  youth,  with 
that  something  so  compelling  in  their  quiet  depths,  that 
once  more  her  tired  pulses  quickened.  Rhoda  looked 
from  Kut-le  out  to  the  twisting  sand- whirls,  then  she  took 
the  glass  of  milk  and  drank  it.  She  would  not  have  done 
this  for  any  of  the  others  and  both  she  and  Kut-le  knew  it. 
Thereafter,  he  deliberately  set  himself  to  watching  her 
and  it  seemed  as  if  he  must  exhaust  his  ingenuity  de- 
vising means  for  her  comfort.  Slowly  Rhoda  acquired 
a  definite  interest  in  the  young  Indian. 

"Are  you  really  civilized,  Kut-le?"  she  asked  one  after- 
noon when  the  young  man  had  brought  a  little  white 
desert  owl  to  her  hammock  for  her  inspection. 


4£  THE  HEART  OF  THE  DESERT 

Kut-le  tossed  the  damp  hair  from  his  forehead  and 
looked  at  the  sweet  wistful  face  against  the  crimson 
pillows.  For  a  moment  Rhoda  felt  as  if  his  young 
strength  enveloped  her  like  the  desert  sun. 

"Why?"  he  asked  at  last.  "You  said  the  other  day 
that  I  was  too  much  civilized." 

"I  know,  but — "  Rhoda  hesitated  for  words,  "I'm  too 
much  civilized  myself  to  understand,  but  sometimes 
there's  a  look  in  your  eyes  that  something,  I  suppose  it's  a 
forgotten  instinct,  tells  me  means  that  you  are  wild  to  let 
all  this  go — "  she  waved  a  thin  hand  toward  cultivated 
fields  and  corral — "and  take  to  the  open  desert." 

Kut-le  said  nothing  for  a  moment,  though  his  face 
lighted  with  joy  at  her  understanding.  Then  he  turned 
toward  the  desert  and  Rhoda  saw  the  look  of  joy  change 
to  one  so  full  of  unutterable  longing  that  her  heart  was 
stirred  to  sudden  pity.  However,  an  instant  later,  he 
turned  to  her  with  the  old  impassive  expression. 

"Right  beneath  my  skin,"  he  said,  "is  the  Apache. 
Tell  me.  Miss  Rhoda,  what's  the  use  of  it  all?" 

"  Use  ?"  asked  Rhoda,  staring  at  the  blue  sky  above  the 
peach-trees.  "I  am  a  fit  person  to  ask  what  is  the  use 
of  anything!  Of  course,  civilization  is  the  only  thing 
that  lives.    I  can't  get  your  point  of  view  at  all." 

"Huh!"  sniffed  Kut-le.  "It's  too  bad  Indians  don't 
write  books!     If  my  people  had  been  putting  their  in- 


INDIAN  AND  CAUCASIAN  43 

temal  mechanism  on  paper  for  a  thousand  years,  you'd 
have  no  more  trouble  getting  my  point  of  view  than  I 
do  yours." 

Rhoda's  face  as  she  eyed  the  stern  young  profile  was 
very  sympathetic.  Kut-le,  turning  to  her,  surprised  upon 
her  face  that  rare,  tender  smile  for  which  all  who  knew  her 
watched.  His  face  flushed  and  his  fine  hands  clasped 
and  unclasped. 

**Tell  me  about  it,  Kut-le,  if  you  can." 

"  I  can't  tell  you.  The  desert  would  show  you  its  own 
power  if  you  would  give  it  a  chance.  No  one  can  de- 
scribe the  call  to  you.  I  suppose  if  I  answered  it  and 
went  back,  you  would  call  it  retrogression?" 

"  Wbat  would  you  call  it?"  asked  Rhoda. 

"I  don't  know.  It  would  depend  on  my  mood.  I 
only  know  that  the  ache  is  there."  His  eyes  grew  somber 
and  beads  of  sweat  appeared  on  his  forehead.  "The 
ache  to  be  there — free  in  the  desert!  To  feel  the  hot  sun 
in  my  face  as  I  work  the  trail!  To  sleep  with  the  naked 
stars  in  my  face!  To  be —  Oh,  I  can't  make  you 
understand,  and  I'd  rather  you  understood  than  any  one 
in  the  world!  You  could  understand,  if  only  you  were 
desert- taught.     When  you  are  well  and  strong — " 

"  But  why  don't  you  go  back  ?"  interrupted  Rhoda. 

" Because,"  replied  Kut-le  slowly,  "the  Indian  is  dying. 
I  hope  that  by  Hving  as  a  white,  I  may  live.     Up  till  re- 


44  THE  HEART  OF  THE  DESERT 

cently  I  have  worked  blindly  and  hopelessly,  but  now  I 
see  light." 

"Do  you?"  asked  Rhoda  with  interest.  "What  have 
you  found  ?" 

"It  isn't  mine  yet."  Kut-le  looked  at  the  girl  exul- 
tantly and  there  was  a  triumphant  note  in  his  voice. 
*'But  it  shall  be  mine!  I  will  make  it  mine!  And  it  is 
worth  the  sacrifice  of  my  race." 

A  vague  look  of  surprise  crossed  Rhoda's  face  but  she 
spoke  calmly: 

"To  sacrifice  one's  race  is  a  serious  thing.  I  can't 
think  of  anything  that  would  make  that  worth  while. 
Here  comes  Mr.  DeWitt.  It  must  be  dinner  time.  John, 
come  up  and  see  a  little  desert  owl  at  close  range.  Kut-le 
has  all  the  desert  at  his  beck  and  call!" 

Kut-le  persuaded  Rhoda  to  change  the  morning  rides, 
which  seemed  only  to  exhaust  her,  to  the  shortest  of  eve- 
ning strolls.  Nearly  always  DeWitt  accompanied  them. 
Sometimes  they  went  alone,  though  John  was  never  very 
far  distant. 

One  moonlit  night  Kut-le  and  Rhoda  stood  alone  at 
the  corral  bars.  The  whole  world  was  radiant  silver 
moonlight  on  the  desert,  on  the  undulating  alfalfa;  moon- 
light filtering  through  the  peach-trees  and  shimmering 
on  Rhoda's  drooping  head  as  she  leaned  against  the  bars 
in  the  weary  attitude  habitual  to  her.     Kut-le  stood  before 


INDIAN  AND  CAUCASIAN  45 

her,  erect  and  strong  in  his  white  flannels.  His  handsome 
head  was  thrown  back  a  little,  as  was  his  custom  when 
speaking  earnestly.  His  arms  were  folded  across  his 
deep  chest  and  he  stood  so  still  that  Rhoda  could  see  his 
arms  rise  and  fall  with  his  breath. 

"It  really  is  great  work!"  he  was  saying  eagerly.  '*It 
seems  to  me  that  a  civil  engineer  has  tremendous  oppor- 
tunities to  do  really  big  things.  Some  of  Kipling's  stories 
of  them  are  bully." 

"Aren't  they!"  answered  Rhoda  sympathetically. 

"There  is  a  big  thing  in  my  favor  too.  The  whites 
make  no  discrimination  against  an  Indian  in  the  profes- 
sions.    In  fact  every  one  gives  him  a  boost  in  passing! " 

"Why  shouldn't  they?  You  have  as  good  a  brain 
and  are  as  attractive  as  any  man  of  my  acquaintance!" 

The  young  man  drew  a  quick  breath. 

"  Do  you  really  mean  that  ?  " 

"Of  course!  Why  shouldn't  I?  Isn't  the  moonlight 
uncanny  on  the  desert?" 

But  Kut-le  did  not  heed  her  attempt  to  change  the 
subject. 

"There  are  unlimited  opportunities  for  me  to  make 
good,  now  that  the  government  is  putting  up  so  many 
dams.  I  believe  that  I  can  go  to  the  top  with  any  man, 
don't  you,  Miss  Rhoda?" 

"I  do,  indeed!"  replied  Rhoda  sincerely. 


46     THE  HEART  OF  THE  DESERT 

"Well,  then,  Miss  Rhoda,  will  you  marry  me?" 

Rhoda  raised  her  head  in  speechless  amazement. 

Kut-le's  glowing  eyes  contracted. 

"You  are  not  surprised!"  he  exclaimed  a  little  fiercely. 
"  You  must  have  seen  how  it  has  been  with  me  ever  since 
you  came.     And  you  have  been  so — so  bully  to  me!'* 

Rhoda  looked  helplessly  into  the  young  man's  face. 
She  was  so  fragile  that  she  seemed  but  an  evanescent  part 
of  the  moonlight. 

"But,"  she  said  slowly,  "you  must  know  that  this  is 
impossible.     I  couldn't  think  of  marrying  you,  Kut-le!" 

There  was  a  moment's  silence.  An  owl  called  from  the 
desert.  The  night  wind  swept  from  the  fragrant  orchard. 
When  he  spoke  again,  Kut-le's  voice  was  husky. 

"Is  it  because  I  am  an  Indian?" 

"Yes,"  answered  Rhoda,  "partly.  But  I  don't  love 
you,  anyhow. " 

"But,"  eagerly,  "if  you  did  love  me,  would  my  being 
an  Indian  make  any  difference  ?  Isn't  my  blood  pure  ? 
Isn't  it  old?" 

Rhoda  stood  still.  The  pain  in  Kut-le's  voice  was 
piercing  through  to  the  shadow  world  in  which  she  lived. 
Her  voice  was  troubled. 

"But  I  don't  love  you,  so  what's  the  use  of  consider- 
ing the  rest  ?  If  I  ever  marry  any  one  it  will  be  John 
DeWitt." 


INDIAN  AND  CAUCASIAN  47 

"But  couldn't  you,"  insisted  the  tragically  deep  voice^ 
"  couldn't  you  ever  love  me  ?  " 

Rhoda  answered  wearily.  One  could  not,  it  seemed, 
even  die  in  peace! 

*'I  can't  think  of  love  or  marriage  any  more.  I  am  a 
dying  woman.  Let  me  go  into  the  mist,  Kut-le,  without 
a  pang  for  our  friendship,  with  just  the  pleasant  memory 
of  your  goodness  to  me.  Surely  you  cannot  love  me  as 
lam!" 

"  I  love  you  for  the  wonderful  possibilities  I  see  in  you. 
I  love  you  in  spite  of  your  illness.  I  will  make  you  well 
before  I  marry  you.  The  Indian  in  me  has  strength 
to  make  you  well.  And  I  will  cherish  you  as  white  men 
cherish  their  wives. " 

Rhoda  raised  her  hand  commandingly  and  in  her  voice 
was  that  boundless  vanity  of  the  white,  which  is  as  old  as 
the  race. 

"No!  No!  Don't  speak  of  this  again!  You  are  an 
Indian  but  one  removed  from  savagery.  I  am  a  white!  I 
couldn't  think  of  marrying  you ! "  Then  her  tender  heart 
failed  her  and  her  voice  trembled.  "But  still  I  am  your 
friend,  Kut-le.     Truly  I  am  your  friend. " 

The  Indian  was  silent  so  long  that  Rhoda  was  a  little 
frightened.    Then  he  spoke  slowly. 

"Yes,  you  are  white  and  I  am  red.  But  before  all 
that,  you  are  a  woman  of  exquisite  possibilities  and  I  am  a 


48  THE  HEART  OF  THE  DESERT 

man  who  by  all  of  nature's  laws  would  make  a  fitting  mate 
for  you.  You  can  love  me,  when  you  are  well,  as  you 
could  love  no  other  man.  And  I — dear  one,  I  love  you 
passionately !  I  love  you  tenderly !  I  love  you  enough  to 
give  up  my  race  for  you.  I  am  an  Indian,  Rhoda,  but 
first  of  all  I  am  a  man.    Rhoda,  will  you  marry  me?'* 

A  thrill,  poignant,  heart-stirring,  beat  through  Rhoda's 
veins.  For  one  unspeakable  moment  there  swept  through 
her  spirit  a  vision  of  strength,  of  beauty,  of  gladness,  too 
wild  and  sweet  for  words.  Then  came  the  old  sense 
of  race  distaste  and  she  looked  steadily  into  the  young 
man's  face. 

"I  cannot  marry  you,  Kut-le,''  she  said. 

Kut-le  said  nothing  more.  He  stood  staring  at  the  far 
desert,  his  fine  face  somber  and  with  a  look  of  determina- 
tion in  the  contracted  eyes  and  firm-set  lips  that  made 
Rhoda  shiver,  even  while  her  heart  throbbed  with  pity. 
Tall,  slender,  inscrutable,  as  alien  to  her  understanding 
as  the  call  of  the  desert  wind  or  the  moon-drenched  desert 
haze,  she  turned  away  and  left  him  standing  there  alone. 

She  made  her  slow  way  to  the  ranch-house.  Kut-le  did 
not  follow.  Rhoda  went  to  bed  at  once.  Yet  she  could 
not  sleep,  for  through  the  silence  Kut-le's  deep  voice  beat 
on  her  ears. 

*'  I  love  you  passionately!  I  love  you  tenderly!  I  am 
an  Indian,  but  first  of  all  I  am  a  man!" 


INDIAN  AND  CAUCASIAN  49 

The  next  day  and  for  the  three  or  four  days  following, 
Kut-le  was  missing.  The  Newmans  were  worried.  The 
ditch  needed  its  engineer  and  never  before  had  Kut-le 
been  known  to  neglect  his  work.  Once  a  year  he  went 
on  a  long  hunt  with  chosen  friends  of  his  tribe,  but  never 
until  his  work  was  finished. 

Rhoda  confided  in  no  one  regarding  her  last  interview 
with  the  Indian.  She  missed  Kut-le,  but  DeWitt  was 
frankly  relieved.  For  the  first  time  since  Porter's  warn- 
ing he  relaxed  his  vigilance.  On  the  fifth  evening 
after  Kut-le's  disappearance,  Jack  and  DeWitt  rode  over 
to  a  neighboring  ranch.  Katherine  was  lazy  with  a 
headache.  So  Rhoda  took  her  evening  stroll  alone. 
For  once,  she  left  the  orchard  and  wandered  out 
into  the  open  desert,  moved  by  an  uncanny  desire 
to  let  the  full  horror  of  the  desert  mvstery  sweep  over 
her. 

How  long  she  sat  on  a  rock,  gazing  into  infinity,  she 
did  not  know.  It  seemed  to  her  that  her  whole  shivering, 
protesting  body  was  being  absorbed  into  th^  strange 
radiance  of  the  afterglow.  At  last  she  rose.  As  she 
did  so,  a  tall  figure  loomed  silently  before  her.  Rhoda 
was  too  startled  to  scream.  The  figure  was  that  of  an 
Indian,  naked  save  for  high  moccasins  and  a  magnifi- 
cently decorated  loin-cloth.  The  man  looked  down  at 
her  with  the  smile  of  good  fellowship  that  she  knew  so 


50  THE  HEART  OF  THE  DESERT 

well.  It  was  Kut-le,  standing  like  a  young  bronze  god 
against  the  faint  pink  of  the  afterglow. 

"Hello!"  he  said  nonchalantly.  "IVe  been  watching 
for  you." 

"  What  do  you  want! "  gasped  Rhoda.  "  What  do  you 
mean  by  coming  before  me  in — in — " 

"You  mean  when  I'm  dressed  as  a  chief  on  the  war- 
path? Well,  you  said  you'd  be  keen  about  me  this 
way;  so  here  I  am.  I  tried  all  the  white  methods  I  knew 
to  win  you  and  failed.  Now  the  only  thing  left  is  the 
Indian  method." 

Rhoda  moved  uneasily. 

Kut-le  went  on: 

"As  a  white  man  I  can  no  longer  pester  you.  As  an 
Indian  I  can  steal  you  and  marry  you." 

Rhoda  struggled  to  make  him  and  his  words  seem  real 
to  her. 

"  You  aren't  going  to  be  so  absurd  as  to  try  to  steal  me, 
I  hope!"  she  tried  to  laugh. 

"That's  just  what  I'm  going  to  do!"  answered  Kut-le. 
"  If  I  steal  as  a  white  would  steal,  I  would  be  caught  at 
once.  If  I  use  Apache  methods,  no  white  on  earth  can 
catch  me." 

Rhoda  gasped  as  the  Indian's  evident  sincerity  sank  in 
on  her. 

"But,"  she  pleaded,  fighting  for   time,  "you  can't 


INDIAN  AND  CAUCASIAN  51 

want  to  marry  me  by  force!  Don*t  you  know  that  1 
shall  grow  to  loathe  you?" 

"No!  No!"  answered  the  Indian  earnestly.  "Not 
after  I've  shown  you  life  as  I  have  seen  it." 

"Nonsense!"  cried  Rhoda.  "Don't  you  realize  that 
the  whole  county  will  be  after  you  by  morning?" 

Kut-le  laughed,  deliberately  walked  up  to  the  girl  and 
lifted  her  in  his  arms  as  he  had  on  the  morning  of  their 
meeting.  Rhoda  gave  one  scream  and  struggled  fran- 
tically. He  slid  a  hand  over  her  lips  and  tightened  his 
hold.  For  a  moment  Rhoda  lay  motionless  in  abject 
fear,  then,  with  a  muffled  cry  of  utter  helplessness,  a  cry 
that  would  have  driven  a  white  man  mad  with  pity,  she 
slipped  into  unconsciousness.  Kut-le  walked  on  for  a 
short  distance  to  a  horse.  He  put  Rhoda  in  the  saddle 
and  fastened  her  there  with  a  blanket.  He  slipped  off 
the  twisted  bandana  that  bound  his  short  black  hair, 
fillet  wise,  and  tied  it  carefully  over  Rhoda's  mouth. 
Then  with  one  hand  steadying  the  quiet  shoulders,  he 
started  the  horse  on  through  the  dusL 


CHAPTER  IV 

THE  INDIAN   WAY 

TT  was  some  time  before  the  call  of  a  coyote  close  beside 
•*•  her  penetrated  Rhoda's  senses.  At  its  third  or  fourth 
repetition,  she  sighed  and  opened  her  eyes.  Night  had 
come,  the  luminous  lavender  night  of  the  desert.  Her 
first  discovery  was  that  she  was  seated  on  a  horse,  held 
firmly  by  a  strong  arm  across  her  shoulders.  Next  she 
found  that  her  uneasy  breathing  was  due  to  the  cloth  tied 
round  her  mouth.  With  this  came  realization  of  her 
predicament  and  she  tossed  her  arms  in  a  wild  attempt 
to  free  herself. 

The  arm  about  her  tightened,  the  horse  stopped,  and 
the  voice  went  on  repeating  the  coyote  call,  clearly, 
mournfully.  Rhoda  ceased  her  struggling  for  a  moment 
and  looked  at  the  face  so  close  to  her  own.  In  the  star- 
light only  the  eyes  and  the  dim  outline  of  the  features 
were  visible,  and  the  eyes  were  as  dark  and  menacing 
to  her  as  the  desert  night  that  shut  her  in. 

Mad  with  fear,   Rhoda  strained  at  the  rigid  arm. 

Kut-le  dropped  the  reins  and  held  her  struggling  hands, 

ceased  his  calling  and  waited.     Off  to  the  left  came  an 

answering  call  and  Kut-le  started  the  pony  rapidly  toward 

63 


54  THE  HEART  OF  THE  DESERT 

the  sound.  In  a  few  moments  Rhoda  saw  a  pair  of 
horsemen.  Utterly  exhausted,  she  sat  in  terror  awaiting 
her  fate.  Kut-le  gave  a  low- voiced  order.  One  of  the 
riders  immediately  rode  forward,  leading  another  horse. 
Kut-le  slipped  another  blanket  from  this  and  finished 
binding  Rhoda  to  her  saddle  so  securely  that  she  scarcely 
could  move  a  finger.  Then  he  mounted  his  horse,  and 
he  and  one  of  the  Indians  started  off,  leading  Rhoda's 
horse  between  them  and  leaving  the  third  Indian  standing 
silently  behind  them. 

Rhoda  was  astride  of  the  pony,  half  sitting,  half 
lying  along  his  neck.  The  Indians  put  the  horses  to  a 
trot  and  immediately  the  discomfort  of  her  position  was 
made  agony  by  the  rough  motion.  But  the  pain  cleared 
her  mind. 

Her  first  thought  was  that  she  never  would  recover 
from  the  disgrace  of  this  episode.  Following  this 
thought  came  fury  at  the  man  who  was  so  outraging  her. 
If  only  he  would  free  her  hands  for  a  moment  she 
would  choke  him!  Her  anger  would  give  her  strength 
for  that!  Then  she  fought  against  her  fastenings. 
They  held  her  all  but  motionless  and  the  sense  of  her 
helplessness  brought  back  the  fear  panic.  Utterly  help- 
less, she  thought!  Flying  through  darkness  to  an  end 
worse  than  death!  In  the  power  of  a  naked  savPf^I 
Her  fear  almost  robbed  her  of  her  reason. 


THE  INDIAN  WAY  55 

After  what  seemed  to  her  endless  hours,  the  horses 
were  stopped  suddenly.  She  felt  her  fastenings  removed. 
Then  Kut-le  lifted  her  to  the  ground  where  she  tumbled, 
helpless,  at  his  feet.  He  stooped  and  took  the  gag  from 
her  mouth.  Immediately  with  what  fragment  of  strength 
remained  to  her,  she  screamed  again  and  again.  The 
two  Indians  stood  stolidly  watching  her  for  a  time,  then 
Kut-le  knelt  in  the  sand  beside  her  huddled  form  and 
laid  his  hand  on  her  arm. 

"There,  Rhoda,"  he  said,  "no  one  can  hear  you. 
You  will  only  make  yourself  sick." 

Rhoda  struck  his  hand  feebly. 

"DonH  touch  me!"  she  cried  hoarsely.  "Don't 
touch  me,  you  beast!  I  loathe  you!  I  am  afraid  of  you! 
Don't  you  dare  to  touch  me!" 

At  this  Kut-le  imprisoned  both  her  cold  hands  in  one 
of  his  warm  palms  and  held  them  despite  her  struggles, 
while  with  the  other  hand  he  smoothed  her  tumbled  hair 
from  her  eyes. 

"Poor  frightened  little  girl!"  he  said,  in  his  rich  voice. 
"  I  wish  I  might  have  done  otherwise.  But  there  was  no 
other  way.  I  don't  know  that  I  believe  much  in  your 
God  but  I  guess  you  do.  So  I  tell  you,  Rhoda,  that  by 
your  faith  in  Him,  you  are  absolutely  safe  in  my  hands!" 

Rhoda  caught  her  breath  in  a  childlike  sob  while  she 
still  struggled  to  recover  her  hands. 


56  THE  HEART  OF  THE  DESERT 

"I  loathe  you!"  she  panted.  "I  loathe  you!  I 
loathe  you!" 

But  Kut-le  would  not  free  the  cold  little  hands. 

"But  do  you  fear  me,  too?  Answer  me!  Do  you 
fear  me  ?" 

The  moon  had  risen  and  Rhoda  looked  into  the  face 
that  bent  above  hers.  This  was  a  naked  savage  with 
hawk-like  face.  Yet  the  eyes  were  the  ones  that  she 
had  come  to  know  so  well,  half  tragic,  somber,  but  clear 
and,  toward  her,  tender,  very,  very  tender.  With  a 
shuddering  sigh,  Rhoda  looked  away.  But  against  her 
own  volition  she  found  herself  saying: 

"I'm  not  afraid  now!  But  I  loathe  you,  you  Apache 
Indian!" 

Something  very  like  a  smile  touched  the  grim  mouth  of 
the  Apache. 

"I  don't  hate  you,  you  Caucasian!"  he  answered 
quietly. 

He  chafed  the  cold  hands  for  a  moment,  in  silence. 
Then  he  lifted  her  to  her  saddle.  But  Rhoda  was 
beyond  struggle,  beyond  even  clinging  to  the  saddle. 
Kut-Ie  caught  her  as  she  reeled. 

"  Don't  tie  me !"  she  panted.  "  Don't  tie  me !  I  won't 
fight!     I  won't  even  scream,  if  you  won't  tie  me!" 

"But  you  can't  sit  your  saddle  alone,"  replied  Kut-le. 
"I'll  have  to  tie  you." 


*5?«» 


THE  INDIAN  WAY  57 

Once  more  he  lifted  her  to  the  horse.  Once  more 
with  the  help  of  his  silent  companion  he  fastened  her 
with  blankets.  Once  more  the  journey  was  begun.  For 
a  little  while,  distraught  and  uncertain  what  course  to 
pursue,  Rhoda  endured  the  misery  of  position  and 
motion  in  silence.  Then  the  pain  was  too  much  and  she 
cried  out  in  protest.     Kut-le  brought  the  horses  to  a  walk. 

"  You  certainly  have  about  as  much  spunk  as  a  chicken 
with  the  pip !"  he  said  contemptuously.  "  I  should  think 
your  loathing  would  brace  you  up  a  little!" 

Stung  by  the  insult  to  a  sudden  access  of  strength,  as 
the  Indian  had  intended  her  to  be,  Rhoda  answered, 
"You  beast!"  but  as  the  horses  swung  into  the  trot  she 
made  no  protest  for  a  long  hour.  Then  once  more  her 
strength  failed  her  and  she  fell  to  crying  with  deep-drawn 
sobs  that  shook  her  entire  body.  After  a  few  moments 
of  this,  Kut-le  drew  close  to  her. 

"Don't!"  he  said  huskily.  "Don't!"  And  again  he 
laid  his  hand  on  her  shoulder. 

Rhoda  shuddered  but  could  not  cease  her  sobs.  Kut-le 
seemed  to  hesitate  for  a  few  moments.  Then  he  reached 
over,  undid  Rhoda's  fastenings  and  lifted  her  limp 
body  to  the  saddle  before  him,  holding  her  against  his 
broad  chest  as  if  he  were  coddling  a  child.  Then  he 
started  the  horses  on.  Too  exhausted  to  struggle,  Rhoda 
lay  sobbing  while  the  young  Indian  sat  with  his  tragic 


58  THE  HEART  OF  THE  DESERT 

eyes  fastened  steadily  on  the  mysterious  distances  of  the 
trail.  Finally  Rhoda  sank  into  a  stupor  and,  seeing  this, 
Kut-le  doubled  the  speed  of  the  horses. 

It  was  daylight  when  Rhoda  opened  her  eyes.  For  a 
time  she  lay  at  ease  listening  to  the  trill  of  birds  and  the 
trickle  of  water.  Then,  with  a  start,  she  raised  her 
head.  She  was  lying  on  a  heap  of  blankets  on  a  stone 
ledge.  Above  her  was  the  boundless  sapphire  of  the 
sky.  Close  beside  her  a  little  spring  bubbled  from  the 
blank  wall  of  the  mountain.  Rhoda  lay  in  helpless  si- 
lence, looking  about  her,  while  the  appalling  nature  of 
her  predicament  sank  into  her  consciousness. 

Against  the  wall  squatted  two  Indian  women.  They 
were  dressed  in  rough  short  skirts,  tight-fitting  calico 
waists  and  high  leather  moccasins.  Their  black  hair 
was  parted  in  the  middle  and  hung  free.  Their  swarthy 
features  were  well  cut  but  both  of  the  women  were  dirty 
and  ill  kept.  The  younger,  heavier  squaw  had  a  kindly 
face,  with  good  eyes,  but  her  hair  was  matted  with  clay 
and  her  fingers  showed  traces  of  recent  tortilla  making. 
The  older  woman  was  lean  and  wiry,  with  a  strange 
gleam  of  maliciousness  and  ferocity  in  her  eyes.  Her 
forehead  was  elaborately  tattooed  with  symbols  and 
her  toothless  old  jaws  were  covered  with  blue  tribal 
lines. 

Kut-le  and  his  friend  of  the  night  lounged  on  a  heap 


THE  INDIAN  WAY  59 

of  rock  at  the  edge  of  the  ledge.  The  strange  Indian 
was  well  past  middle  age,  tall  and  dignified.  He  was 
darker  than  Kut-le.  His  face  was  thin  and  aquiline. 
His  long  hair  hung  in  elf  locks  over  his  shoulders.  His 
toilet  was  elaborate  compared  with  that  of  Kut-le,  for 
he  wore  a  pair  of  overalls  and  a  dilapidated  flannel  shirt, 
unbelted  and  fluttering  its  ends  in  the  morning  breeze. 
As  if  conscious  of  her  gaze,  Kut-le  turned  and  looked  at 
Rhoda.  His  magnificent  height  and  proportions  dwarfed 
the  tall  Indian  beside  him. 

"Good-morning,  Rhoda!"  he  said  gravely. 

The  girl  looked  at  the  beautiful  naked  body  and  red- 
dened. 

"You  beast!"  she  said  clearly. 

Kut-le  looked  at  her  with  slightly  contracted  eyes. 
Then  he  spoke  to  the  fat  squaw.  She  rose  hastily 
and  lifted  a  pot  from  the  little  fire  beside  the  spring.  She 
dipped  a  steaming  cup  of  broth  from  this  and  brought 
it  to  Rhoda's  side.  The  girl  struck  it  away.  Kut-le 
walked  slowly  over,  picked  up  the  empty  cup  at  which 
the  squaw  stood  staring  stupidly  and  filled  it  once  more 
at  the  kettle.  Then  he  held  it  out  to  Rhoda.  His  near- 
ness roused  the  girl  to  frenzy.  With  difficulty  she  brought 
her  stiffened  body  to  a  sitting  position.  Her  beautiful 
gray  eyes  were  black  with  her  sense  of  outrage. 

"Take  it  away,  beast!"  she  panted. 


60  THE  HEART  OF  THE  DESERT 

Kut-le  held  her  gaze. 

"  Drink  it,  Rhoda! "  he  said  quietly. 

The  girl  returned  his  look  for  a  moment  then,  hating 
herself  for  her  weakness,  she  took  the  cup  and  drained  it. 
Kut-le  tossed  the  cup  to  the  squaw,  pushed  Rhoda  back 
to  her  blankets  and  covered  her  very  gently.  Then  he 
went  back  to  his  boulder.  The  girl  lay  staring  up  at  the 
sky.  Utterly  merciless  it  gleamed  above  her.  But 
before  she  could  more  than  groan  she  was  asleep. 

She  slept  as  she  had  not  slept  for  months.  The  slant- 
ing rays  of  the  westering  sun  wakened  her.  She  sat  up 
stiffly.  The  squaws  were  unpacking  a  burlap  bag. 
They  were  greasy  and  dirty  but  they  were  women  and 
their  nearness  gave  Rhoda  a  vague  sense  of  protection. 
They  in  turn  gazed  at  the  tangled  glory  of  her  hair,  at  the 
hopeless  beauty  of  her  eyes,  at  the  pathos  of  the  drooping 
mouth,  with  unfeigned  curiosity. 

Kut-le  still  was  watching  the  desert.  The  madness  of 
the  night  before  had  lifted  a  little,  leaving  Rhoda  with 
some  of  her  old  poise.  After  several  attempts  she  rose 
and  made  her  staggering  way  to  Kut-le's  side. 

''Kut-le,"  she  said,  "perhaps  you  will  tell  me  what 
you  mean  by  this  outrage?" 

I'he  young  Indian  turned  to  her.  White  and  ex- 
hausted, heavy  hair  in  confusion,  Rhoda  still  was 
lovely. 


THE  INDIAN  WAY  61 

"You  seem  to  have  more  interest  in  life/'  he  said* 
"  than  you  have  had  since  I  have  known  you.  I  thought 
the  experiment  would  have  that  effect! '' 

*^You  brute!"  cried  Rhoda.  "Can't  you  see  how 
silly  you  are?  You  will  be  caught  and  lynched  before 
the  day  is  passed." 

Kut-le  smiled. 

"Pshaw!  Three  Apaches  can  outwit  a  hundred 
white  men  on  the  trail!" 

Rhoda  caught  her  breath. 

"Oh,  Kut-le,  how  could  you  do  this  thing!  How 
could  you!  I  am  disgraced  forever!  Let  me  go,  Kut-lel 
Let  me  go!  I'll  not  even  ask  you  for  a  horse.  Just  let 
mc  go  by  myself!" 

"You  are  better  off  with  me.  You  will  acknowledge 
that,  yourself,  before  I  am  through  with  you." 

"Better  off!"  Rhoda's  appalled  eyes  cut  the  Indian 
deeper  than  words.  "Better  off!  Why,  Kut-le,  I  am  a 
dying  woman!  You  will  just  have  to  leave  me  dead 
beside  the  trail  somewhere.  Look  at  me!  Look  at  my 
hands!  See  how  emaciated  I  am!  See  how  I  tremble! 
I  am  a  sick  wreck,  Kut-le.  You  cannot  want  me!  Let 
me  go!  Try,  try  to  remember  all  that  you  learned  of 
pity  from  the  whites!     O  Kut-le,  let  me  go!" 

"I  haven't  forgotten  what  I  learned  from  the  whites," 
replied  the  young  man.    He  looked  off  at  the  desert  with 


62  THE  HEART  OF  THE  DESERT 

a  quiet  smile.  "Now  I  want  the  whites  to  learn  from 
me." 

"But  can't  you  see  what  a  futile  game  you  are  playing  ? 
John  DeWitt  and  Jack  must  be  on  your  trail  now!" 

There  was  a  cruel  gleam  in  the  Apache's  eyes. 

"  Don't  be  too  sure!  They  are  going  to  spend  a  few 
days  looking  for  the  foolish  Eastern  girl  who  took  a 
stroll  and  lost  her  way  in  the  desert.  How  can  they 
dream  that  you  are  stolen  ?  " 

Rhoda  wrung  her  hands. 

"  What  shall  I  do !  What  shall  I  do!  What  an  awful, 
awful  thing  to  come  to  me!  As  if  life  had  not  been  hard 
enough!     This  catastrophe!     This  disgrace!" 

Kut-le  eyed  her  speculatively. 

"It's  all  race  prejudice,  you  know.  I  have  the  edu- 
cation of  the  white  with  the  intelligence  and  physical 
perfection  of  the  Indian;  DeWitt  is  nowhere  near  my 
equal." 

Rhoda's  eyes  blazed. 

"  Don't  speak  of  DeWitt!    You're  not  fit  to! " 

"Yet,"  very  quietly,  "you  said  the  other  night  that  I 
had  as  good  a  brain  and  was  as  attractive  as  any  man  of 
your  acquaintance!" 

"I  was  a  fool!"  exclaimed  Rhoda. 

Kut-le  rose  and  took  a  stride  or  two  up  and  down  the 
ledge.    Then  he  folded  his  arms  across  his  chest  and 


THE  INDIAN  WAY  63 

stopped  before  Rhoda,  who  leaned  weakly  against  the 
boulder. 

"I  am  going  to  tell  you  what  my  ideas  are,"  he  said. 
*'You  are  intelligent  and  will  understand  me  no  matter 
how  bitter  my  words  may  make  you  at  first.  Now  look 
here.  Lots  of  white  men  are  in  love  with  you.  Even 
Billy  Porter  went  off  his  head.  But  I  guess  DeWitt  is  a 
pretty  fair  sample  of  the  type  of  men  you  draw,  well 
educated,  strong,  well-bred  and  Eastern  to  the  backbone. 
And  they  love  you  as  you  are,  delicate,  helpless,  appeal- 
ing, thoroughbred,  but  utterly  useless! 

"Except  that  they  hate  to  see  you  suffer,  they  wouldn't 
want  you  to  change.  Now  I  love  you  for  the  possibilities 
that  I  see  in  you.  I  wouldn't  think  of  marrying  you  as 
you  are.  It  would  be  an  insult  to  my  good  blood.  Your 
beauty  is  marred  by  your  illness.  You  have  absolutely 
no  sense  of  responsibility  toward  life.  You  think  that  life 
owes  everything  to  you,  that  you  pay  your  way  with  your 
beauty.  If  you  didn't  die,  but  married  DeWitt,  you 
would  go  on  through  life  petted  and  babied,  bridge- 
playing  and  going  out  to  lectures,  childless,  incompe- 
tent, self-satisfied — ^and  an  utter  failure! 

"Now  I  think  that  humans  owe  everything  to  life  and 
that  women  owe  the  most  of  all  because  they  make  the 
race.  The  more  nature  has  done  for  them,  the  more  they 
owe.     I  believe  that  you  are  a  thousand  times  worth  sav- 


64  THE  HEART  OF  THE  DESERT 

ing.  I  am  going  to  keep  you  out  here  in  the  desert  until 
you  wake  to  your  responsibility  to  yourself  and  to  life.  I 
am  going  to  strip  your  veneering  of  culture  from  you  and 
make  you  see  yourself  as  you  are  and  life  as  it  is  — life, 
big  and  clean  and  glorious,  with  its  one  big  tenet:  keep 
body  and  soul  right  and  reproduce  your  kind.  I  am  going 
to  make  you  see  bigger  things  in  this  big  country  than  you 
ever  dreamed  of." 

He  stopped  and  Rhoda  sat  appalled,  the  Indian  watch- 
ing her.  To  relieve  herself  from  his  eyes  Rhoda  turned 
toward  the  desert.  The  sun  had  all  but  touched  the  far 
horizon.  Crimson  and  gold,  purple  and  black,  desert 
and  sky  merged  in  one  unspeakable  glory.  But  Rhoda 
saw  only  emptiness,  only  life's  cruelty  and  futility  and 
loneliness.    And  once  more  she  wrung  her  feeble  hands. 

Kut-le  spoke  to  Molly,  the  fat  squaw.  She  again 
brought  Rhoda  a  cup  of  broth.  This  time  Rhoda  drank 
it  mechanically,  then  sat  in  abject  wretchedness  awaiting 
the  next  move  of  her  tormentor.  She  had  not  long  to 
wait.  Kut-le  took  a  bundle  from  his  saddle  and  began  to 
unfasten  it  before  Rhoda. 

"You  must  get  into  some  suitable  clothes,"  he  said. 
?-Put  these  on." 

Rhoda  stared  at  the  clothing  Kut-le  was  shaking  out. 
Then  she  gave  him  a  look  of  disgust.  There  was  a  pair 
of  little  buckskin  breeches,  exquisitely  tanned,  a  little 


THE  INDIAN  WAY  65 

blue  flannel  shirt,  a  pair  of  high-laced  hunting  boots  and  a 
sombrero.  She  made  no  motion  toward  taking  the 
clothes. 

"  Can't  you  see,"  Kut-le  went  on,  "  that,  at  the  least, 
you  will  be  in  my  power  for  a  day  or  two,  that  you  must 
ride  and  that  the  clothes  you  have  on  are  simply  silly? 
Why  not  be  as  comfortable  as  possible,  under  the  cir- 
cumstances?" 

The  girl,  with  the  conventions  of  ages  speaking  in  her 
disgusted  face,  the  savage  with  his  perfect  physique  be- 
speaking ages  of  undistorted  nature,  eyed  each  other 
narrowly. 

"I  shall  keep  on  my  own  clothes,"  said  Rhoda  dis- 
tinctly. "Believe  me,  you  alone  give  the  party  the 
primitive  air  you  admire!" 

Kut-le's  jaw  hardened. 

"  Rhoda  Tuttle,  unless  you  put  these  clothes  on  at  once 
I  shall  call  the  squaws  and  have  them  put  on  you  by  force." 

Into  Rhoda's  face  came  a  look  of  despair.  Slowly  she 
put  out  a  shaking  hand  and  took  the  clothes. 

" I  can't  argue  against  a  brute,"  she  said.  "The  men 
I  have  known  have  been  gentlemen.  Tell  one  of  your 
filthy  squaws  to  come  and  help  me." 

"Molly!  PronioV'  Like  a  brown  lizard  the  fat  squaw 
scuttled  to  Rhoda's  side. 

In  a  little  dressing-room  formed  by  fallen  rock,  Rhoda 


66  THE  HEART  OF  THE  DESERT 

put  on  the  boy^s  clothing.  Molly  helped  the  girl  very 
gently.  When  she  was  done  she  smoothed  the  blue- 
shirted  shoulder  complacently. 

"Heap  nice!"  she  said.  "Make  'em  sick  squaw  heap 
warm.  You  no  'fraid!  Kut-le  say  cut  off  nose,  kill  'em 
with  cactus  torture,  if  Injuns  not  good  to  white  squaw." 

The  touch  was  the  touch  of  a  woman  and  Molly,  though 
a  squaw,  had  a  woman's  understanding.  Rhoda  gave  a 
little  sob. 

"Kut-le,  he  good !"  Molly  went  on.  " He  a  big  chief's 
son.  He  strong,  rich.  You  no  be  afraid.  You  look 
heap  pretty." 

Involuntarily  Rhoda  glanced  at  herself.  The  new 
clothes  were  very  comfortable.  With  the  loveliness  and 
breeding  that  neither  clothing  nor  circumstance  could 
mar,  Rhoda  was  a  fascinating  figure.  She  was  tall  for  a 
woman,  but  now  she  looked  a  mere  lad.  The  buckskin 
clung  like  velvet.  The  high-laced  boots  came  to  her 
knees.  The  sombrero  concealed  all  of  the  golden  hair 
save  for  short  curling  locks  in  front.  She  would  have 
charmed  a  painter,  Kut-le  thought,  as  she  stepped 
from  her  dressing-room;  but  he  kept  his  voice  coolly 
impersonal. 

"All  right,  you're  in  shape  to  travel,  now.  Where  are 
your  other  clothes  ?     Molly,  bring  them  all  here !" 

Rhoda  followed  the  squaw  and  together  they  folded  the 


THE  INDIAN  WAY  67 

cast-off  clothing.  Rhoda  saw  that  her  scarf  had  blown 
near  the  canon  edge.  A  quick  thought  came  to  her. 
Molly  was  fully  occupied  with  muttering  adoration  of  the 
dainty  underwear.  Rhoda  tied  a  pebble  into  the  scarf 
and  dropped  it  far  out  into  the  depths  below.  Then  she 
returned  to  Molly. 


CHAPTER  V 

THE  PURSUIT 

S  twilight  deepened,  Katherine  lay  in  the  hammock 
thankful  for  the  soothing  effect  of  the  darkness  on 
her  aching  eyes.  She  felt  a  little  troubled  about  Kut-le. 
She  was  very  fond  of  the  young  Indian.  She  understood 
him  as  did  no  one  else,  perhaps,  and  had  the  utmost 
faith  in  his  honor  and  loyalty.  She  suspected  that  Rhoda 
had  had  much  to  do  with  the  young  Indian's  sudden  de- 
parture and  she  felt  irritated  with  the  girl,  though  at 
the  same  time  she  acknowledged  that  Rhoda  had  done 
only  what  she,  Katherine,  had  advised — had  treated 
Kut-le  as  if  he  had  been  a  white  man! 

She  watched  the  trail  for  Rhoda's  return  but  darkness 
came  and  there  was  no  sign  of  the  frail  figure.  A  little 
disturbed,  she  walked  to  the  corral  bars  and  looked  down 
to  the  lights  of  the  cowboys'  quarters.  If  only  John 
DeWitt  and  Jack  would  return!  But  she  did  not  expect 
them  before  midnight.  She  returned  to  the  house  and 
telephoned  to  the  ranch  foreman. 

"Don't  you  worry,  ma'am,"  he  answered  cheerily. 
"No  harm  could  come  to  her!    She  just  walked  till  it 


7G  THE  HEART  OF  THE  DESERT 

got  dark  and  is  just  starting  for  home  now,  I  betl  She 
can't  have  got  out  of  sight  of  the  ranch  lights." 

"But  she  may  have!  You  can't  tell  what  she's  done, 
she's  such  a  tenderfoot,"  insisted  Katherine  nervously. 
"She  may  have  been  hurt!" 

It  was  well  that  Katherine  could  not  see  the  fore- 
man's face  during  the  conversation.  It  had  a  decided 
scowl  of  apprehension,  but  he  managed  a  cheerful  laugh. 

"Well,  you  have  got  nervous,  Mrs.  Newman!  I'll 
just  send  three  or  four  of  the  boys  out  to  meet  her.    Eh  ?  " 

"Oh,  yes,  do!"  cried  Katherine.  "I  shall  feel  easier. 
Good-by!" 

Dick  Freeman  dropped  the  receiver  and  hurried  into 
the  neighboring  bunk-house. 

"Boys,"  he  said  quietly,  "Mrs.  Newman  just  'phoned 
me  that  Miss  Tuttle  went  to  walk  at  sunset,  to  be  gone 
half  an  hour.  She  ain't  got  back  yet.  She  is  alone. 
Will  some  of  you  come  with  me?" 

Every  hand  of  cards  was  dropped  before  Dick  was 
half  through  his  statement.  In  less  than  twenty  minutes 
twenty  cowboys  were  circling  slowly  out  into  the  desert. 
For  two  hours  Katherine  paced  from  the  living-room 
to  the  veranda,  from  the  veranda  to  the  corral.  She 
changed  her  light  evening  gown  to  her  khaki  riding  habit. 
Her  nervousness  grew  to  panic.  She  sent  Li  Chung  to 
bed,  then  she  paced  the  lawn,  listening,  listening. 


THE  PURSUIT  71 

At  last  she  heard  the  thud  of  hoofs  and  Dick  Freeman 
dismounted  in  the  light  that  streamed  from  the  open 
door. 

"We  haven't  found  her,  Mrs.  Newman.  Has  Mr. 
Newman  got  back  ?  I  think  we  must  get  up  an  organized 
search." 

Katherine  could  feel  her  heart  thump  heavily. 

"  No,  he  hasn't.     Have  you  found  her  trail  ?  " 

"No;  it's  awful  hard  to  trail  in  the  dark,  and  the  desert 
for  miles  around  the  ranch  is  all  cut  up  with  footprints 
and  hoof-marks,  you  know." 

Katherine  wrung  her  hands. 

"Oh,  poor  little  Rhoda!"  she  cried.  "What  shall 
we  do!" 

"No  harm  can  come  to  her,"  insisted  Dick.  "She 
will  know  enough  to  sit  tight  till  daylight,  then  we  will 
have  her  before  the  heat  gets  up." 

"Oh,  if  she  only  will!"  moaned  Katherine.  "Do 
whatever  you  think  best,  Dick,  and  I'll  send  Jack  and 
John  DeWitt  to  you  as  soon  as  they  return." 

Dick  swung  himself  to  the  saddle  again. 

"Better  go  in  and  read  something,  Mrs.  Newman. 
You  mustn't  worry  yourself  sick  until  you  are  sure  you 
have  something  to  worry  about." 

How  she  passed  the  rest  of  the  night,  Katherine  never 
knew.    A  little  after  midnight,  Jack  came  in,  his  face 


72  THE  HEART  OF  THE  DESERT 

tense  and  anxious.  Katharine  paled  as  she  saw  his 
expression.  She  knew  he  had  met  some  of  the  searchers. 
When  Jack  saw  the  color  leave  his  wife's  pretty  cheeks, 
he  kissed  her  very  tenderly  and  for  a  moment  they  clung 
to  each  other  silently,  thinking  of  the  delicate  girl  adrift 
on  the  desert. 

"Where  is  John  DeWitt?"  asked  Katherine  after  a 
moment. 

"He's  almost  crazy.  He's  with  Dick  Freeman.  Only 
stopped  for  a  fresh  horse." 

"They  have  no  trace?"  questioned  Katherine. 

Jack  shook  his  head. 

"You  know  what  a  proposition  it  is  to  hunt  for  as 
small  an  object  as  a  human,  in  the  desert.  Give  me 
your  smelling  salts  and  the  little  Navajo  blanket.  Obc— 
one  can't  tell  whether  she's  hurt  or  not." 

Katherine  began  to  sob  as  she  obeyed. 

"You  are  all  angel  good  not  to  blame  me,  but  I  know 
it's  my  fault.  I  shouldn't  have  let  her  go.  But  she  is  so 
sensible,  usually." 

"Dear  heart!"  said  Jack,  rolling  up  the  Navajo. 
"Any  one  that  knows  dear  old  Rhoda  knows  that  what 
she  will,  she  will,  and  you  are  not  to  blame.  Go  to  bed 
and  sleep  if  you  can." 

"  Oh,  Jack,  I  can't!    Let  me  go  with  you,  do!'* 

But  Jack  shook  his  head. 


THE  PURSUIT  7» 

"You  aren't  strong  enough  to  do  any  good  and  some 
one  must  stay  here  to  run  things." 

So  again  Katherine  was  left  to  pace  the  veranda.  Ail 
night  the  search  went  on.  Jack  sent  messages  to  the 
neighboring  ranches  and  the  following  morning  jGifty  men 
were  in  the  saddle  seeking  Rhoda's  trail.  Jack  also 
sent  into  the  Pueblo  country  for  Kut-le,  feeling  that  his 
aid  would  be  invaluable.  It  would  take  some  time  to  get 
a  reply  from  the  Indians  and  in  the  meantime  the  search 
went  on  rigorously,  with  no  trace  of  the  trail  to  be  found. 

John  DeWitt  did  not  return  to  the  ranch  until  the 
afternoon  after  Rhoda's  disappearance.  Then,  dishev- 
eled, with  bloodshot  eyes,  cracked  lips  and  blistered  face, 
he  dropped  exhausted  on  the  veranda  steps.  Katherine 
and  Jack  greeted  him  with  quiet  sympathy. 

"I  came  in  to  get  fixed  up  for  a  long  cruise,"  said 
John.  "My  pony  went  lame,  and  I  want  a  flannel 
shirt  instead  of  this  silk  thing  I  had  on  last  night.  I 
wish  to  God  Kut-le  would  come!  I  suppose  he  could 
read  what  we  are  blind  to." 

"  You  bet !"  cried  Jack.  "  I  expect  an  answer  from  his 
friends  this  afternoon.  I  just  had  a  telegram  from 
Porter,  in  answer  to  one  I  sent  him  this  morning.  I 
caught  him  at  Brown's  and  he  will  be  here  this  after- 
noon. He  knows  almost  as  much  as  an  Indian  about 
following  a  trail." 


74  THE  HEART  OF  THE  DESERT 

They  all  spoke  in  the  hushed  tones  one  employs  in  the 
!^ck-room.  Jack  tried  to  persuade  DeWitt  to  eat  and 
sleep  but  he  refused,  his  forced  calm  giving  way  to  a 
hoarse,  "For  heaven's  sake,  can  I  rest  when  she  is  dying 
out  there!" 

John  had  not  finished  his  feverish  preparations  when 
Billy  Porter  stalked  into  the  living-room.  As  he  entered, 
the  telephone  rang  and  Jack  answered  it.  Then  he 
returned  to  the  eager  group. 

"Kut-le  has  gone  on  a  long  hunt  with  some  of  his 
people.  They  don't  know  where  he  went  and  refuse  to 
look  for  him." 

Billy  Porter  gave  a  hard,  mirthless  laugh. 

"  Why  certainly !  Jack,  you  ought  to  have  a  hole  bored 
into  your  head  to  let  in  a  little  light.  Kut-le  gone. 
Can't  find  Rhoda's  trail.  Kut-le  in  love  with  Rhoda. 
Kut-le  an  Indian.  Rhoda  refuses  him — ^he  goes  off — 
gets  some  of  his  chums  and  when  he  catches  Rhoda 
alone  he  steals  her.  He  will  keep  a  man  behind, 
covering  his  trail.  Oh,  you  easy  Easterners  make  me 
sick!" 

The  Newmans  and  DeWitt  stood  staring  at  Porter 
with  horror  in  their  eyes.  The  clock  ticked  for  an 
instant  then  DeWitt  gave  a  groan  and  bowed  his  head 
against  the  mantelpiece.  Katherine  ran  to  him  and  tried 
to  pull  his  head  to  her  little  shoulder. 


THE  PURSUIT  75 

"O  John,  don't!  Don't!  Maybe  Billy  is  right.  I'm 
afraid  he  is!  But  one  thing  I  do  know.  Rhoda  is  as 
safe  in  Kut-le's  hands  as  she  would  be  in  Jack's.  I 
know  it,  John!" 

John  did  not  move,  but  at  Katherine's  words  the  color 
came  back  into  Jack  Newman's  face. 

"That's  right!"  he  said  stoutly.  "It's  a  devilish 
thing  for  Kut-le  to  do.  But  she's  safe,  John,  old  boy, 
I'm  sure  she  is." 

Billy  Porter,  conscience-stricken  at  the  effect  of  his 
words,  clapped  John  on  the  shoulder. 

"Aw  shucks!  I  let  my  Injun  hate  get  the  best  of  my 
tongue.  Of  course  she's  safe  enough;  only  the  darn 
devil's  got  to  be  caught  before  he  gets  to  Mexico  and 
makes  some  padre  marry  'em.  So  it's  us  to  the  saddle  a 
whole  heap." 

"We'd  better  get  an  Indian  to  help  trail,"  said  Jack. 

"You'll  have  a  sweet  time  getting  an  Injun  to  trail 
Kut-le!"  said  Porter.  "The  Injuns  half  worship  him. 
They  think  he's  got  some  kind  of  strong  medicine;  you 
know  that.  You  get  one  and  he'll  keep  you  off  the  trail 
instead  of  on.  I  can  follow  the  trail  as  soon  as  he  quits 
covering  it.  Get  the  canteens  and  come  on.  We  don't 
need  a  million  cowboys  running  round  promiscuous 
over  the  sand.  Numbers  don't  help  in  trailing  an 
Injun.     It's  experience  and  patience.     It  may  take  us 


76  THE  HEART  OF  THE  DESERT 

two  weeks  and  we'll  outfit  for  that.  But  we'll  get  him 
in  the  end.     Crook  always  did." 

There  was  that  in  Billy  Porter's  voice  which  put  heart 
into  his  listeners.  John  DeWitt  lifted  his  head,  and 
while  his  blue  eyes  returned  the  gaze  of  the  others 
miserably,  he  squared  his  shoulders  doggedly. 

"I'm  ready,"  he  said  briefly. 

"Oh,  let  me  come!"  cried  Katherine.  "I  can't  bear 
this  waiting!" 

Billy  smiled. 

"  Why,  Mrs.  Jack,  you'd  be  dried  up  and  blowed  away 
before  the  first  day  was  over." 

"But  Rhoda  is  enduring  it!"  protested  Katherine, 
with  quivering  lips. 

"God!"  John  DeWitt  muttered  and  flung  himself 
from  the  house  to  the  corral.  The  other  two  followed 
him  at  once. 

It  was  mid-afternoon  when  the  three  rode  into  the 
quivering  yellow  haze  of  the  desert  followed  by  a  little 
string  of  pack  horses.  It  was  now  nearing  twenty-four 
hours  since  Rhoda  had  disappeared  and  in  that  time 
there  had  been  little  sand  blowing.  This  meant  that 
the  trail  could  be  easily  followed  were  it  found.  The 
men  rode  single  file,  Billy  Porter  leading.  All  wore  blue 
flannel  shirts  and  khaki  trousers.  John  DeWitt  rode 
Eastern  park  fashion,  with  short  stirrup,  rising  from  the 


THE  PURSUIT  77 

saddle  with  the  trot.  Jack  and  Billy  rode  Western 
fashion,  long  stirrup,  an  inseparable  part  of  their  horses, 
a  fashion  that  John  DeWitt  was  to  be  forced  to  learn  in 
the  fearful  days  to  come. 

Billy  Porter  declaimed  in  a  loud  voice  from  the  head  of 
the  procession. 

"Of  course,  Kut-le  has  taken  to  the  mountains.  He'll 
steer  clear  of  ranches  and  cowboys  for  a  while.  Our 
chance  lies  in  his  giving  up  covering  his  trail  after  he 
gets  well  into  the  ranges.  We  will  get  his  trail  and  hang 
on  till  we  can  outwit  him.  If  he  was  alone,  we'd  never 
get  him,  barring  accident.  But  he  will  be  a  lot  hampered 
by  Miss  Rhoda  and  I  trust  to  her  to  hamper  him  a  whole 
lot  after  she  gets  her  hand  in." 

All  the  rest  of  the  burning  afternoon  they  moved 
toward  the  mountains.  It  was  quite  dusk  when  they 
entered  the  foothills.  The  way,  not  good  at  best,  grew 
difficult  and  dangerous  to  follow.  Billy  led  on,  however, 
until  darkness  closed  down  on  them  in  a  little  cactus- 
grown  canon.  Here  he  halted  and  ordered  camp  for  a. 
few  hours. 

"LordP'  exclaimed  DeWitt.  "You're  not  going  to 
camp!  I  thought  you  were  really  going  to  do  some- 
thing!" 

Billy  finished  lighting  the  fire  and  by  its  light  he  gave 
an  impatient  glance  at  the  tenderfoot.     But  the  look  ©f 


78     THE  HEART  OF  THE  DESERT 

the  burned,  sand-grimed  face,  the  bloodshot  eyes,  blazing 
with  anxiety,  caused  him  to  speak  patiently. 

"Can't  kill  the  horses,  DeWitt.  You  must  make  up 
your  mind  that  this  is  going  to  be  a  hard  hunt.  You 
got  to  call  out  all  the  strength  youVe  been  storing  up  all 
your  life,  and  then  some.  We've  got  to  use  common 
sense.  Lord,  I  want  to  get  ahead,  don't  I!  I  seen  Miss 
Rhoda.  I  know  what  she's  like.  This  ain't  any  joy 
ride  for  me,  either.     I  got  a  lot  of  feeling  in  it." 

John  DeWitt  extended  his  sun-blistered  right  hand 
and  Billy  Porter  clasped  it  with  his  brown  paw. 

Jack  Newman  cleared  his  throat. 

"  Did  you  give  your  horse  enough  rope,  John  ?  There 
is  a  good  lot  of  grass  close  to  the  canon  wall.  Quick 
as  you  finish  your  coffee,  old  man,  roll  in  your  blanket. 
We  will  rest  till  midnight  when  the  moon  comes  up, 
eh,  Billy?" 

DeWitt,  finally  convinced  of  the  good  sense  and  ear- 
nestness of  his  friends,  obeyed.  The  canon  was  still  in 
darkness  when  Jack  shook  him  into  wakefulness  but  the 
mountain  peak  above  was  a  glorious  silver.  Camp  was 
broken  quickly  and  in  a  short  time  Billy  was  leading 
the  way  up  the  wretched  trail.  DeWitt's  four  hours  of 
sleep  had  helped  him.  He  could,  to  some  degree, 
control  the  feverish  anxiety  that  was  consuming  him  and 
he  tried  to  turn  his  mind  from  picturing  Rhoda's  agonies 


THE  PURSUIT  79 

to  castigating  himself  for  leaving  her  unguarded  even 
though  Kut-le  had  left  the  ranch.  Before  leaving  the 
ranch  that  afternoon  he  had  telegraphed  and  written 
Rhoda's  only  living  relative,  her  Aunt  Mary.  He  had 
been  thankful  as  he  wrote  that  Rhoda  had  no  mother. 
He  had  so  liked  the  young  Indian;  there  had  been  such 
good  feeling  between  them  that  he  could  not  yet  believe 
that  Porter's  surmise  was  wholly  correct. 

"Supposing,"  he  said  aloud,  "that  you  are  wrong, 
Porter?  Supposing  that  she's — she's  dying  of  thirst 
down  there  in  the  desert  ?  You  have  no  proof  of  Kut-le's 
doing  it.  It's  only  founded  on  your  Indian  hate,  you 
say  yourself." 

"That's  right,"  said  Newman.  "Are  you  sure  we 
aren't  wasting  time,  Billy?" 

Billy  turned  in  the  saddle  to  face  them. 

"Well,  boys,"  he  said,  "you've  got  half  the  county 
scratching  the  desert  with  a  fine- tooth  comb.  I  don't 
see  how  we  three  can  help  very  much  there.  On  the 
other  hand  we  might  do  some  good  up  here.  Now  I'll 
make  a  bargain  with  you.  If  by  midnight  tonight  we 
ain't  struck  any  trace  of  her,  you  folks  can  quit." 

"And  what  will  you  do?"  asked  Jack. 

"Me?"  Billy  shrugged  his  shoulders.  "Why,  I'll 
keep  on  this  trail  till  my  legs  is  wore  off  above  my  boots! " 
and  he  turned  to  guide  his  pony  up  a  little  branch  trail 


so  THE  HEART  OF  THE  DESERT 

at  the  top  of  which  stood  a  tent  with  the  telltale  windlass 
and  forge  close  by. 

Before  the  tent  they  drew  rein.  In  response  to  Billy's 
call  a  rough-bearded  fellow  lifted  the  tent  flap  and  stood 
suppressing  a  yawn,  as  if  visitors  to  his  lonely  claim  were 
of  daily  occurrence. 

"Say,  friend,"  said  Billy,  "do  you  know  Newman's 
ranch?" 

"Sure,"  returned  the  prospector. 

"  Well,  this  is  Mr.  Newman.  A  young  lady  has  been 
visiting  him  and  his  wife.  She  disappeared  night  before 
last.  We  suspicion  that  Cartwell,  that  educated  Injun, 
has  stole  her.  We're  trying  to  find  his  trail.  Can  you 
give  us  a  hunch?" 

The  sleepy  look  left  the  prospector's  eyes.  Ife  crossed 
the  rocks  to  put  a  hand  on  Billy's  pommel. 

"Gee!  Ain't  that  ungodly!"  he  exclaimed.  "I  ain't 
seen  a  soul.  But  night  before  last  I  heard  a  screaming 
in  my  sleep.  It  woke  me  up  but  when  I  got  out  here  I 
couldn't  hear  a  thing.  It  was  faint  and  far  away  and  I 
decided  it  was  a  wildcat.     Do  you  suppose  it  was  her?^\ 

DeWitt  ground  his  teeth  together  and  his  hands  shook 
but  he  made  no  sound.     Jack  breathed  heavily. 

"You  think  it  was  a  woman?"  asked  Billy  hoarsely. 

The  prospector  spoke  hesitatingly. 

"If  I'd  been  shore,  I'd  a  gone  on  a  hunt.     But  it  was 


THE  PURSUIT  81 

all  kind  of  in  my  sleep.  It  was  from  way  back  in  the 
mountain  there." 

"Thanks,"  said  Billy,  "we'll  be  on  our  way." 

"It*s  four  o'clock.  Better  stop  and  have  some  grub 
with  me,  then  I'll  join  in  and  help  you." 

"No!"  cried  DeWitt,  breaking  his  silence.     "No!" 

"That's  the  young  lady's  financier,"  said  Billy,  nodding 
toward  John. 

"Sho!"  said  the  prospector  sympatheticalK 

Billy  lifted  his  reins. 

"Thanks,  we'll  be  getting  along,  I  guess.  Just  as 
much  obliged  to  you.     We'll  water  here  in  your  spring." 

They  moved  on  in  the  direction  whither  the  prospector 
had  pointed.  They  rode  in  silence.  Dawn  came  slowly, 
clearly.  The  peaks  lifted  magnificently,  range  after 
range  against  the  rosy  sky.  There  was  no  trail.  They 
followed  the  possible  way.  The  patient  little  cow  ponies 
clambered  over  rocks  and  slid  down  inclines  of  a 
frightful  angle  as  cleverly  as  mountain  goats.  At  ten 
o'clock,  they  stopped  for  breakfast  and  a  three  hours' 
sleep.  It  was  some  time  before  DeWitt  could  be  per- 
suaded to  lie  down  but  at  last,  perceiving  that  he  was 
keeping  the  others  from  their  rest,  he  took  his  blanket 
to  the  edge  of  the  ledge  and  lay  down. 

His  sleepless  eyes  roved  up  and  down  the  adjoining 
canon.    Far  to  the  south,  near  the  desert  floor,  he  saw 


82  THE  HEART  OF  THE  DESERl 

a  fluttering  bit  of  white.  Now  a  fluttering  bit  of  white, 
far  from  human  byways,  means  something!  Tenderfoot 
though  he  was,  DeWitt  realized  this  and  sleep  left  his 
eyes.  He  sat  erect.  For  a  moment  he  was  tempted  to 
call  the  others  but  he  restrained  himself.  He  would  let 
them  rest  while  he  kept  watch  over  the  little  white  beacon, 
for  so,  unaccountably,  it  seemed  to  him.  He  eyed  it  hun- 
grily, and  then  a  vague  comfort  and  hopefulness  came 
to  him  and  he  fell  asleep. 

Jack's  lusty  call  to  coffee  woke  him.  DeWitt  jumped 
to  his  feet  and  with  a  new  light  in  his  eyes  he  pointed  out 
his  discovery.  The  meal  was  disposed  of  very  hurriedly 
and,  leaving  Jack  to  watch  the  camp,  John  and  Billy 
crossed  the  canon  southward.  After  heavy  scrambling 
they  reached  the  foot  of  the  caiion  wall.  Twenty  feet 
above  them  dangled  a  white  cloth.  Catching  any  sort  of 
hand  and  foot  hold,  John  clambered  upward.  Then 
he  gave  a  great  shout  of  joy.  Rhoda's  neck  scarf  with 
the  pebble  pinned  in  one  end  was  in  his  hands!  DeWitt 
slid  to  the  ground  and  he  and  Billy  examined  the  scarf 
tenderly,  eagerly. 

"I  told  you!  I  told  you!''  exulted  Billy  hoarsely. 
"See  that  weight  fastened  to  it?  Wasn't  that  smart  of 
her  ?  Bless  her  heart!  Now  we  got  to  get  above,  some- 
how, and  find  where  she  dropped  it  from!" 


CHAPTER  VI 

ENTERING   THE  DESERT  KINDERGARTEN 

''"XXTE'LL  start  now,"  said  Kut-Ie. 

Alchise  led  out  the  horses.  The  squaws  each 
threw  an  emancipated,  sinewy  leg  across  a  pony's  back 
and  followed  Alchise's  fluttering  shirt  up  the  mountain. 
Kut-le  stood  holding  the  bridle  of  a  sedate  little  horse 
on  which  he  had  fastened  a  comfortable  high-backed 
saddle. 

"Come,  Rhoda,"  he  said.  "I'll  shorten  the  stirrups 
after  you  are  mounted." 

Rhoda  stood  with  her  back  to  the  wall,  her  blue- veined 
hands  clutching  the  rough  out-croppings  on  either  side, 
horror  and  fear  in  her  eyes. 

"I  can't  ride  cross-saddle!"  she  exclaimed.  "I  used 
to  be  a  good  horsewoman  in  the  side-saddle.  But  I'm 
so  weak  that  even  keeping  in  the  side-saddle  is  out  of 
the  question." 

"Anything  except  cross-saddle  is  utterly  out  of  the 

question,"  replied  the  Indian,  "on  the  sort  of  trails  we 

have  to  take.    You  might  as  well  begin  to  control  your 

83 


84  THE  HEART  OF  THE  DESERT 

nerves  now  as  later.  I^m  going  to  have  an  expert  rider 
in  you  by  the  time  you  have  regained  your  strength. 
Come,  Rhoda." 

The  girl  turned  her  face  to  the  afterglow.  Remote  and 
pitiless  lay  the  distant  crimson  ranges.  She  shuddered 
and  turned  back  to  the  young  Indian  who  stood  watching 
her.  For  the  moment  all  the  agony  of  her  situation  was 
concentrated  in  horror  of  another  night  in  the  saddle. 

"Kut-le,  lean'//" 

"Shall  I  pick  you  up  and  carry  you  over  here?" 
asked  Kut-le  patiently. 

In  her  weakness  and  misery,  Rhoda's  cleft  chin 
quivered.  There  was  only  merciless  determination  in 
the  Indian's  face.  Slowly  the  girl  walked  to  his  side. 
He  swung  her  to  the  saddle,  adjusted  the  stirrups  care- 
fully, then  fastened  her  securely  to  the  saddle  with  a  strap 
about  her  waist.  Rhoda  watched  him  in  the  silence  of 
utter  fear.  Having  settled  the  girl  to  his  satisfaction, 
he  mounted  his  own  horse,  and  Rhoda's  pony  followed 
him  tractably  up  the  trail. 

The  trail  rose  steeply.  After  the  first  few  dizzy 
moments,  Rhoda,  clinging  to  the  saddle  with  hands  and 
knees,  was  thankful  for  the  security  of  her  new  seat.  The 
scenery  was  uncanny  to  her  terrorized  eyes.  To  the 
left  were  great  overhanging  walls  with  cactus  growing 
from  every  crevice;  to  the  right,  depth  of  canon  toward 


ENTERING  THE  DESERT  KINDERGARTEN  85 

which  she  dared  not  look  but  only  trusted  herself  prayer- 
fully to  her  steady  little  horse. 

As  the  trail  led  higher  and  darkness  settled,  the  cold 
grew  intense  and  Rhoda  cowered  and  shivered.  Yet 
through  her  fear  and  discomfort  was  creeping  sarprise 
that  her  strength  had  endured  even  this  long.  In  a  spot 
where  the  trail  widened  Kut-le  dropped  back  beside  her 
and  she  felt  the  warm  folds  of  a  Navajo  blanket  about  her 
shoulders.  Neither  she  nor  the  Indian  spoke.  The 
madness  of  the  night  before,  the  fear  and  disgust  of  the 
afternoon  gave  way,  slowly,  to  a  lethargy  of  exhaustion. 
All  thought  of  her  frightful  predicament,  of  her  friends' 
anxiety,  of  Kut-le's  treachery,  was  dulled  by  a  weariness 
so  great  that  she  could  only  cling  to  the  saddle  and  pray 
for  the  trail  to  end. 

Kut-le,  riding  just  ahead,  glanced  back  constantly  at 
the  girl's  dim  figure.  But  Rhoda  was  beyond  pleading 
or  protesting.  The  trail  twisted  and  undulated  on  and 
on.  Each  moment  Rhoda  felt  less  certain  of  her  seat. 
Each  moment  the  motion  of  the  horse  grew  more  painful. 
At  last  a  faint  odor  of  pine-needles  roused  her  sinking 
senses  and  she  opened  her  heavy  eyes.  They  had  left 
the  sickening  edge  of  the  canon  and  Alchise  was  leading 
them  into  a  beautiful  growth  of  pines  where  the  mournful 
hooting  of  owls  gave  a  graveyard  sadness  to  the  moon- 
flecked  shadows. 


86  THE  HEART  OF  THE  DESERT 

Here,  in  a  long  aisle  of  columnar  pines,  Kut-le  called 
the  first  halt.  Rhoda  reeled  in  her  saddle.  Before  her 
horse  had  stopped,  Kut-le  was  beside  her,  unfastening 
her  waist  strap  and  lifting  her  to  the  ground.  He  pulled 
the  blanket  from  his  own  shoulders  and  Molly  stretched 
it  on  the  soft  pine-needles.  Rhoda,  half  delirious,  looked 
up  into  the  young  Indian's  face  with  the  pathetic  uncon- 
sciousness of  a  sick  child.  He  laid  her  carefully  on  the 
blanket.  The  two  squaws  hurriedly  knelt  at  Rhoda's 
side  and  with  clever  hands  rubbed  and  manipulated  the 
slender,  exhausted  body  until  the  girl  opened  her  languid 
eyes. 

Kut-le,  while  this  was  being  done,  stood  quietly  by  the 
blanket,  his  fine  face  stern  and  intent.  When  Rhoda 
opened  her  eyes,  he  put  aside  the  two  squaws,  knelt  and 
raised  the  girPs  head  and  held  a  cup  of  the  rich  broth  to 
her  lips.  It  was  cold,  yet  it  tasted  good,  and  Rhoda 
finished  the  cup  without  protest,  then  struggled  to  a 
sitting  position.  After  a  moment  Kut-le  raised  her 
gently  to  her  feet.  Here,  however,  she  pushed  him  away 
and  walked  unsteadily  to  her  horse.  Kut-le's  hands 
dropped  to  his  side  and  he  stood  in  the  moonlight  watching 
the  frail  boyish  figure  clamber  with  infinite  travail  into 
the  saddle. 

From  the  pine  wood,  the  trail  led  downward.  The 
rubbing  and  the  broth  had  put  new  life  into  Rhoda,  and 


ENTERING  THE  DESERT  KINDERGARTEN    87 

for  a  little  while  she  kept  a  clear  brain.  For  the  first 
time  it  occurred  to  her  that  instead  of  following  the 
Indians  so  stupidly  she  ought  to  watch  her  chance  and 
at  the  first  opportunity  make  a  wild  dash  off  into  the 
darkness.  Kut-le  was  so  sure  of  her  weakness  and 
cowardice  that  she  felt  that  he  would  be  taken  completely 
by  surprise  and  she  might  elude  him.  With  a  definite 
purpose  in  her  mind  she  was  able  to  fight  off  again  and 
again  the  blur  of  weakness  that  threatened  her. 

As  the  trail  widened  in  the  descent,  Kut-le  rode  in 
beside  her. 

"Feeling  better?"  he  asked  cheerfully. 

Rhoda  made  no  reply.  Such  a  passion  of  hatred  for 
the  man  shook  her  that  words  failed  her.  She  turned  a 
white  face  toward  him,  the  eyes  black,  the  nostrils 
quivering  with  passion. 

Kut-le  laughed  softly. 

"Hate  me,  Rhoda!  Hate  me  as  much  as  you  wish! 
That's  a  heap  more  hopeful  than  indifference.  I'll  bet 
you  aren't  thinking  of  dying  of  ennui  now!" 

What  fiend,  thought  Rhoda,  ever  had  induced  her  to 
make  a  friend  of  this  savage!  She  clung  to  the  pommel 
of  her  saddle,  her  eyes  fastened  on  him.  If  only  he  would 
drop  dead  as  he  sat!  If  only  his  Indians  would  turn  on 
him  and  kill  him! 

They   were   riding   through   the  desert  now,  desert 


88  THE  HEART  OF  THE  DESERT 

thick-grown  with  cactus  and  sage-brush.  Suddenly  a 
far  away  roar  came  to  Rhoda's  ears.  There  was  a  faint 
whistle  repeated  with  increasing  loudness.  Off  to  the 
north  appeared  a  light  that  grew  till  it  threw  a  dazzling 
oeam  on  the  strange  little  waiting  group.  The  train 
passed,  a  half-dozen  dimly  lighted  Pullmans.  The 
roaring  decreased,  the  whistle  sounded  lower  and  lower 
and  the  night  was  silent.  Rhoda  sat  following  the  last 
dim  light  with  burning  eyes.  Kut-le  led  the  way  from 
the  difficult  going  of  the  desert  to  the  road-bed.  As 
Rhoda  saw  the  long  line  of  rails  the  panic  of  the  previous 
night  overwhelmed  her.  Like  a  mad  thing,  unmindful 
of  the  strap  about  her  waist  she  threw  herself  from  the 
saddle  and  hung  against  the  stolid  pony.  Kut-le  dis- 
mounted and  undid  the  strap.  The  girl  dropped  to  the 
ties  and  lay  crouched  with  her  face  against  the  steel  rail. 

"O  John!  O  John  DeWitt!'*  she  sobbed. 

"Alchise,  go  ahead  with  the  horses,"  said  Kut-le. 
'^*Wait  for  me  at  the  painted  rock." 

Then  as  the  Indians  became  indistinguishable  along 
the  track  he  lifted  Rhoda  to  her  feet. 

"  Walk  for  a  while,"  he  said.  "  It  will  rest  you.  Poor 
little  girl!  I  wish  I  could  have  managed  differently  but 
this  was  best  for  you.     Come,  donH  be  afraid  of  me!" 

Some  savage  instinct  stirred  in  Rhoda.  For  the  first 
time  in  her  life  she  felt  an  insane  joy  in  anger. 


ENTERING  THE  DESERT  KINDERGARTEN    89 

"I'm  not  afraid  of  you,  you  Apache  Indian!"  she  said 
clearly.     "I  loathe  you!    Your  touch  poisons  met    Bu 
I'm  not  afraid  of  you !     I  shall  choke  myself  with  my  bare 
hands  before  you  shall  harm  me!     And  if  you  keep  me 
long  enough  I  shall  try  to  kill  you ! " 

Kut-le  gave  a  short  laugh. 

"Listen,  Rhoda.  Your  protests  show  that  you  are 
afraid  of  me.  But  you  need  not  be.  Your  protection 
lies  in  the  fact  that  I  love  you — ^love  you  with  all  the  pas- 
sion of  a  savage,  all  the  restraint  of  a  Caucasian.  I*d 
rather  die  than  harm  you !  Why,  girl,  I'm  saving  you,  not 
destroying  you!  Rhoda!  Dear  one!"  He  paused  and 
Rhoda  could  hear  his  quickened  breath.  Then  he  added 
lightly,  "Let's  get  on  with  our  little  stroll!" 

Rhoda  wrung  her  hands  and  groaned.  Only  to  escape 
— to  escape!  Suddenly  turning,  she  ran  down  the  track. 
Kut-le  watched  her,  motionless,  until  she  had  run  perhaps 
a  hundred  yards,  then  with  a  few  mighty  leaps  he  over- 
took her  and  gathered  her  to  his  great  chest.  Moaning, 
Rhoda  lay  still. 

"Dear,"  said  Kut-le,  "don't  exert  yourself  foolishly. 
If  you  must  escape,  lay  your  plans  carefully.  Use  your 
brain.     Don't  act  like  a  child.     I  love  you,  Rhoda!" 

"I  loathe  you!  I  loathe  you!"  whispered  the  girl. 

"You  don't — ^ah — "  He  stopped  abruptly  and  set  the 
girl  on  the  ground.     They  were  standing  beside  a  side- 


90  THE  HEART  OF  THE  DESERT 

track  near  a  desert  water-tank.  "I've  caught  my  foot 
in  a  switch-frog,"  muttered  Kut-le,  keeping  his  hold  on 
Rhoda  with  one  hand  while  with  the  other  he  tugged  at 
his  moccasined  foot. 

Rhoda  stood  rigid. 

"I  hear  a  train!"  she  cried.  "O  dear  God,  I  hear  a 
train!"  Then,  "The  other  Indians  are  too  far  away  to 
reach  you  before  the  train  does,"  she  added  calmly. 

"But  I'll  never  loose  my  grip  on  you,"  returned  the 
Indian  grimly. 

He  tore  at  the  imprisoned  foot,  ripping  the  moccasin 
and  tearing  at  the  road  bed.  The  rails  began  to  sing. 
Far  down  the  track  they  saw  a  star  of  light.  Rhoda 's 
heart  stood  still.  This,  then,  was  to  be  the  end!  After 
all  the  months  of  distant  menace,  death  was  to  be  upon 
her  in  a  moment!  This,  then,  was  to  be  the  solution! 
And  with  all  the  horror  of  what  life  might  mean  to  her, 
she  cried  out  with  a  sob : 

"Oh,  not  this  way!  Not  this  way!" 

Kut-le  gave  her  a  quick  push. 

"Hurry,"  he  said,  "and  try  to  remember  good  things 
of  me!" 

With  a  cry  of  joy,  Rhoda  jumped  from  the  track,  then 
stopped.  There  flashed  across  her  inner  vision  the  face 
of  young  Cartwell,  debonair  and  dark,  with  unfathomable 
eyes;  young  Cartwell  who  had  saved  her  life  when  the  scor- 


ENTERING  THE  DESERT  KINDERGARTEN    91 

pion  had  stung  her,  who  had  spent  hours  trying  to  lead 
her  back  to  health.  Instantly  she  turned  and  staggered 
back  to  the  Indian. 

"I  can't  let  a  human  being  die  like  a  trapped  animal!'* 
she  panted,  and  she  threw  herself  wildly  against  him. 

Kut-le  fell  at  the  unexpected  impact  of  her  weight  and 
his  foot  was  freed!  He  lifted  Rhoda,  leaped  from  the 
track,  and  the  second  section  of  the  tourist  train  thun- 
dered into  the  west. 

"You  are  as  fine  as  I  thought  you  were — "  he  began. 
But  Rhoda  was  a  limp  heap  at  his  feet. 

The  girl  came  to  her  senses  partially  when  Kut-le  set 
her  in  the  saddle  and  fastened  her  there  with  strap  and 
blanket.  But  happily  she  was  practically  unconscious 
for  the  hour  or  two  that  remained  till  dawn.  Just  as 
day  was  breaking  the  Indians  made  their  way  across 
an  arroyo  and  up  a  long  slope  to  a  group  of  cotton- 
woods.  Here  Rhoda  was  put  to  bed  on  a  heap  of 
blankets. 

Sometime  in  the  afternoon  she  woke  with  a  clear 
head.  It  was  the  first  time  in  months  that  she  had 
wakened  without  a  headache.  She  stared  from  the 
shade  of  the  cottonwoods  to  the  distant  lavender  haze 
of  the  desert.  There  was  not  a  sound  in  all  the  world. 
Mysterious,  remote,  the  desert  stared  back  at  her,  mock- 
ing her  little  grief.     More  terrible  to  her  than  her  danger 


92  THE  HEART  OF  THE  DESERT 

in  Kut-le's  hands,  more  appalling  than  the  death  threat 
that  had  hung  over  her  so  long,  was  this  sense  of  awful 
space,  of  barren  nothingness  with  which  the  desert 
oppressed  her.  Instinctively  she  turned  to  look  for 
human  companionship.  Kut-le  and  Alchise  were  not 
to  be  seen  but  Molly  nodded  beside  Rhoda^s  blankets 
and  the  thin  hag  Cesca  was  curled  in  the  grass  near 
by,  asleep. 

"You  awake?  Heap  hungry?"  asked  Molly  suddenly. 

Rhoda  sat  up,  groaning  at  the  torturing  stiffness  of  her 
muscles. 

"  Where  is  Kut-le  ?  *'  she  asked. 

"  Gone  get 'em  supper.    Alchise  gone  too.'* 

"Molly,"  Rhoda  took  the  rough  brown  hand  between 
both  her  soft  coid  palms, "  Molly,  will  you  help  me  to  run 
away?" 

Molly  looked  from  the  clasping  fingers  up  to  Rhoda's 
sweet  face.  Molly  was  a  squaw,  dirty  and  ignorant. 
Rhoda  was  the  delicate  product  of  a  highly  cultivated 
civilization,  egoistic,  narrow-viewed,  self-centered.  And 
yet  Rhoda,  looking  into  Molly's  deep  brown  eyes,  saw 
there  that  limitless  patience  and  fortitude  and  gentleness 
which  is  woman's  without  regard  to  class  or  color.  And 
not  knowing  why,  the  white  girl  bowed  her  head  on  the 
squaw's  fat  shoulder  and  sobbed  a  little.  A  strange  look 
came  into  Molly's   face.     She  was  childbss  and  had 


ENTERING  THE  DESERT  KINDERGARTEN  93 

worked  fearfully  to  justify  her  existence  to  her  tribe.  Few 
hands  had  touched  hers  in  tenderness.  Few  voices  had 
appealed  to  her  for  sympathy.  Suddenly  Molly  clasped 
Rhoda  in  her  strong  arms  and  swayed  back  and  forth 
with  her  gently. 

"You  no  cry!"  she  said.  "You  no  cry,  little  Sun- 
head,  you  no  cry!" 

**Molly,  dear  kind  Molly,  won't  you  help  me  to  get 
back  to  my  own  people  ?  Suppose  it  was  your  daughter 
that  a  white  man  had  stolen!  O  Molly,  I  want  to  go 
home!" 

Molly  still  rocked  and  spoke  in  the  singsong  voice  one 
uses  to  a  sobbing  child. 

"You  no  run  'way!  Kut-le  catch  right  off!  Make  it 
all  harder  for  you!" 

Rhoda  shivered  a  little. 

"If  I  once  get  away,  Kut-le  never  will  catch  me 
alive!" 

Molly  chuckled  indulgently. 

"How  you  run?  No  sabe  how  eat,  how  drink,  how 
find  the  trail!    Better  stay  with  Molly." 

"I  would  wait  till  I  thought  we  were  near  a  town. 
Won't  you  help  me  ?  Dear,  kind  Molly,  won't  you  help 
me?" 

"Kut-le  kill  Molly  with  cactus  torture!" 

"But  you  go  with  me!"    The  sobs  ceased  and  Rhoda 


94     THE  HEART  OF  THE  DESERT 

sat  back  on  her  blankets  as  the  idea  developed.  "You 
go  with  me  and  I'll  make  you — '^ 

Neither  noticed  the  soft  thud  of  moccasined  feet. 
Suddenly  Alchise  seized  Molly's  black  hair  and  with  a 
violent  jerk  pulled  the  woman  backward.  Rhoda  forgot 
her  stiffened  muscles,  forgot  her  gentle  ancestry.  She 
sprang  at  Alchise  with  catlike  fury  and  struck  his  fingers 
from  Molly's  hair. 

"  You  fiend !  I  wish  I  could  shoot  you !' '  she  panted,  her 
fingers  twitching. 

Alchise  retreated  a  step. 

"She  try  help  'em  run!"  he  said  sullenly. 

"  She  was  not!  And  no  matter  if  she  was!  Don't  you 
touch  a  woman  before  me!" 

A  swift  shadow  crossed  the  camp  and  Alchise  was 
hurled  six  feet  away. 

"What's  the  matter!"  cried  Kut-Ie.  "Has  he  laid 
finger  on  you,  Rhoda?"  He  strode  to  her  side  and 
looked  down  at  her  with  eyes  in  which  struggled  anger 
and  anxiety. 

"No!"  blazed  Rhoda.  "But  he  pulled  Molly  over 
backward  by  her  hair!" 

"  Oh!"  in  evident  relief.    *'And  what  was  Molly  doing?" 

"She  maybe  help  'em  run,"  said  Alchise,  coming 
forward. 

The  relief  in  Kut-le's  voice  increased  Rhoda's  anger. 


ENTERING  THE  DESERT  KINDERGARTEN    95 

"No  such  thing!  She  was  persuading  me  not  to  go! 
Kut-le,  you  give  Alchise  orders  not  to  touch  Molly  again. 
I  won't  have  it!" 

"Oh,  that's  not  necessary,"  said  Kut-Ie  serenely. 
'^  Indians  are  pretty  good  to  their  women  as  ^  general 
thing.  They  average  up  with  the  whites,  f  guess. 
Molly,  get  up  and  help  Cesca  with  these!"  He  flung 
some  newly  killed  rabbits  at  the  gaping  squaw,  who 
still  lay  where  she  had  fallen. 

Rhoda,  trembling  and  glowering,  walked  unsteadily 
up  and  down  beneath  the  cottonwoods.  The  details  of 
her  new  existence,  the  dirt,  the  roughness,  were  beginning 
to  sink  in  on  her.  She  paced  back  and  forth,  lips  com- 
pressed, eyes  black.  Kut-le  stood  with  his  back  against 
a  Cottonwood  eying  the  slender  figure  with  frank  delight. 
Now  and  again  he  chuckled  as  he  rolled  a  cigarette  with 
his  facile  finger.  His  hands  were  fine  as  only  an  Indians 
can  be:  strong  and  sinewy  yet  supple  with  slender  fingers 
and  almond-shaped  nails. 

He  smoked  contentedly  with  his  eyes  on  the  girl. 
Inscrutable  as  was  his  face  at  a  casual  glance,  had 
Rhoda  observed  keenly  she  might  have  read  much  in  the 
chaaging  light  of  his  eyes.  There  was  appreciation  of  her 
and  love  of  her  and  a  merciless  determination  to  hold  her 
at  all  costs.  And  still  as  he  gazed  there  was  that  tragedy 
in  his  look  which  is  part  and  portion  of  the  Indian's  face. 


96  THE  HEART  OF  THE  DESERT 

Silence  in  the  camp  had  continued  for  some  time  when 
a  strange  young  Indian  strode  up  the  slope,  nodded  to 
the  group  in  the  camp,  and  deliberately  rolled  himself 
in  a  blanket  and  dropped  to  sleep.  Rhoda  stared  at 
him  questioning! y. 

"Alchise's  and  Cesca's  son,"  said  Kut-le.  "His  job 
is  to  follow  us  at  a  distance  and  remove  all  trace  of  our 
trail.  Not  an  overturned  pebble  misses  his  eye.  I'll 
need  him  only  for  a  day  or  two." 

"Kut-le,"  said  Rhoda  suddenly,  "when  are  you  going 
to  end  the  farce  and  let  me  go  ?" 

The  young  man  smiled. 

"You  know  the  way  the  farce  usually  ends!  The 
man  always  gets  the  girl  and  they  live  happily  forever 
after!" 

"What  do  you  suppose  Jack  and  Katherine  think  of 
you  ?    They  have  loved  and  trusted  you  so!" 

For  the  first  time  the  Indian's  face  showed  pain. 

"My  hope  is,"  he  said,  "that  after  they  see  how 
happy  I  am  going  to  make  you  they  will  forgive  me," 

Rhoda  controlled  her  voice  with  difiiculty. 

"Can't  you  see  what  you  have  done?  No  matter 
what  the  outcome,  can  you  believe  that  I  or  any  one  that 
loves  me  can  forgive  the  outrage  to  me  ?" 

"After  we  have  married  and  lived  abroad  for  a  year 
or  two  people  will  remember  only  the  romance  of  it!" 


ENTERING  THE  DESERT  KINDERGARTEN    97 

"Heavens!"  ejaculated  Rhoda.  She  returned  to  her 
angry  walking. 

Molly  was  preparing  supper.  She  worked  always 
with  one  eye  on  Rhoda,  as  if  she  could  not  see  enough  of 
the  girl's  fragile  loveliness.  With  her  attention  thus 
divided,  she  stumbled  constantly,  dropping  the  pots  and 
spilling  the  food.  She  herself  was  not  at  all  disturbed 
by  her  mishaps  but,  with  a  grimace  and  a  chuckle, 
picked  up  the  food.  But  Cesca  was  annoyed.  She  was 
tending  the  fire  which  by  a  marvel  of  skill  she  kept  always 
clear  and  all  but  smokeless.  At  each  of  Molly's  mishaps, 
Cesca  hurled  a  stone  at  her  friend's  back  with  a  savage 
"Me-yahl"  that  disturbed  Molly  Lot  at  all. 

Mercifully  night  was  on  the  camp  by  the  time  the 
rabbits  were  cooked  and  Rhoda  ate  unconscious  of  the 
dirt  the  food  had  acquired  in  the  cooking.  When  the 
silent  meal  was  finished,  Kut-le  pointed  to  Rhoda's 
blankets. 

"  We  will  start  in  half  an  hour.  You  must  rest  during 
that  time." 

Too  weary  to  resent  the  peremptory  tone,  Rhoda 
obeyed.  The  fire  long  since  had  been  extinguished  and 
the  camp  was  dark.  The  Indians  were  to  be  located 
only  by  faint  whispers  under  the  trees.  The  opportunity 
seemed  providential!  Rhoda  slipped  from  her  blankets 
and  crept  through  the  darkness  away  from  the  camp. 


CHAPTER  VII 


THE   FIRST  LESSON 


A  FTER  crawling  on  her  hands  and  knees  for  several 
•^"^  yards,  Rhoda  rose  and  started  on  a  run  down  the 
long  slope  to  the  open  desert.  But  after  a  few  steps  she 
found  running  impossible,  for  the  slope  was  a  wilderness 
of  rock,  thickly  grown  with  cholla  and  yucca  with  here 
and  there  a  thicker  growth  of  cat's-claw. 

Almost  at  once  her  hands  were  torn  and  bleeding  and 
she  thought  gratefully  for  the  first  time  of  her  buckskin 
trousers  which  valiantly  resisted  all  detaining  thorns. 
The  way  dropped  rapidly  and  after  her  first  wild  spurt 
Rhoda  leaned  exhausted  and  panting  against  a  boulder. 
She  had  not  the  vaguest  idea  of  where  she  was  going  or 
of  what  she  was  going  to  do,  except  that  she  was  going 
to  lose  herself  so  thoroughly  that  not  even  Kut-le  could 
find  her.     After  that  she  was  quite  willing  to  trust  to  fate. 

After  a  short  rest  she  started  on,  every  sense  keen  for 

the  sound  of  pursuit,  but  none  came.     As  the  silent 

minutes  passed  Rhoda  became  elated.     How  easy  it 

was!     What  a  pity  that  she  had  not  tried  before!    At 

the  foot  of  the  slope,  she  turned  up  the  arroyo.     Here 

99 


100  THE  HEART  OF  THE  DESERT 

her  course  grew  heavier.  The  arroyo  was  cut  by  deep 
ruts  and  gullies  down  which  the  girl  slid  and  tumbled  in 
mad  haste  only  to  find  rock  masses  over  which  she  crawled 
with  utmost  difficulty.  Now  and  again  the  stout  vamps 
of  her  hunting  boots  were  pierced  by  chollas  and,  half 
frantic  in  her  haste,  she  was  forced  to  stop  and  struggle 
to  pull  out  the  thorns. 

It  was  not  long  before  the  girPs  scant  strength  was  gone, 
and  when  after  a  mad  scramble  she  fell  from  a  boulder 
to  the  ground,  she  was  too  done  up  to  rise.  She  lay 
face  to  the  stars,  half  sobbing  with  excitement  and  disap- 
pointment. After  a  time,  however,  the  sobs  ceased  and 
she  lay  thinking.  She  knew  now  that  until  she  was 
inured  to  the  desert  and  had  a  working  knowledge  of  its 
ways,  escape  was  impossible.  She  must  bide  her  time 
and  wait  for  her  friends  to  rescue  her.  She  had  no  idea 
how  far  she  had  come  from  the  Indian  camp.  Whether 
or  not  Kut-le  could  find  her  again  she  could  not  guess. 
If  he  did  not,  then  unless  a  white  stumbled  on  her  she 
must  die  in  the  desert.  Well  then,  let  it  be  so!  The 
old  lethargy  closed  in  on  her  and  she  lay  motionless  and 
hopeless. 

From  all  sides  she  heard  the  night  howls  of  the  coyote 
packs  circling  nearer  and  nearer.  Nothing  could  more 
perfectly  interpret  the  horrible  desolation  of  the  desert, 
^ioda  thought,  than  the  demoniacal,  long-drawn  laugh- 


THE  FIRST  LESSON  101 

ter  of  the  coyote.  How  long  she  lay  she  neither  knew 
nor  cared.  But  just  as  she  fancied  that  the  coyotes  had 
drawn  so  near  that  she  could  hear  their  footsteps,  a  hand 
was  laid  on  her  arm. 

"Have  you  had  enough,  Rhoda?"  asked  Kut-le. 

"No!"  shuddered  Rhoda.     "I'd  rather  die  here!'' 

The  Indian  laughed  softly  as  he  lifted  her  from  the 
ground. 

"A  good  hater  makes  a  good  lover,  Rhoda,"  he  said, 
"I  wish  I'd  had  time  to  let  you  learn  your  lesson  more 
thoroughly.  I  haven't  been  twenty-five  feet  away  from 
you  since  you  left  the  camp.  I  wanted  you  to  try  your 
hand  at  it  just  so  you'd  realize  what  you  are  up  against. 
But  you've  tired  yourself  badly«" 

Rhoda  lay  mute  in  the  young  man's  arms.  She  was 
not  thinking  of  his  words  but  of  the  first  time  that  the 
Indian  had  carried  her.  She  saw  John  De Witt's  pro- 
testing face,  and  tears  of  weakness  and  despair  ran 
silently  down  her  cheeks.  Kut-le  strode  rapidly  and 
unhesitatingly  over  the  course  she  had  followed  so  pain- 
fully and  in  a  few  moments  they  were  among  the  waiting 
Indians. 

Kut-le  put  Rhoda  in  her  saddle,  fastened  her  securely 
and  put  a  Navajo  about  her  shoulders.  The  night's 
misery  was  begun.  Whether  they  went  up  and  down 
mountains,  whether  they  crossed  deserts,  Rhoda  neither 


102  THE    HEART  OF  THE  DESERT 

knew  nor  cared.  The  blind  purpose  of  clinging  to  the 
saddle  was  the  one  aim  of  the  dreadful  night.  She  was 
a  little  light-headed  at  times  and  with  her  head  against 
the  horse's  neck,  she  murmured  John  DeWitt's  name, 
or  sitting  erect  she  called  to  him  wildly.  At  such  times 
Kut-le's  fingers  tightened  and  he  clinched  his  teeth,  but 
he  did  not  go  to  her.  When,  however,  the  frail  figure 
drooped  silently  and  inertly  against  the  waist  strap  he 
seemed  to  know  even  in  the  darkness.  Then  and  then 
only  he  lifted  her  down,  the  squaws  massaged  her 
wracked  body,  and  she  was  put  in  the  saddle  again. 
Over  and  over  during  the  night  this  was  repeated  until  at 
dawn  Rhoda  was  barely  conscious  that  after  being  lifted 
to  the  ground  she  was  not  remounted  but  was  covered 
carefully  and  left  in  peace. 

It  was  late  in  the  afternoon  again  when  Rhoda  woke. 
She  pushed  aside  her  blankets  and  tried  to  get  up  but 
fell  back  with  a  groan.  The  stiffness  of  the  previous 
days  was  nothing  whatever  to  the  misery  that  now  held 
every  muscle  rigid.  The  overexertion  of  three  nights 
in  the  saddle  which  the  massaging  had  so  far  mitigated 
had  asserted  itself  and  every  muscle  in  the  girl's  body 
seemed  acutely  painful.  To  lift  her  hand  to  her  hair, 
to  draw  a  long  breath,  to  turn  her  head,  was  almost 
impossible. 

Rhoda  looked  dismally  about  her.     The  camp  this 


THE  FIRST  LESSON  103 

time  was  on  the  side  of  a  mountain  that  lay  in  a  series  of 
mighty  ranges,  each  separated  from  the  other  by  a  narrow- 
strip  of  desert.  White  and  gold  gleamed  the  snow- 
capped peaks.  Purple  and  lavender  melted  the  shim- 
mering desert  into  the  lifting  mesas.  Rhoda  threw  her 
arm  across  her  eyes  to  hide  the  hateful  sight,  and  moaned 
in  pain  at  the  movement. 

Molly  ran  to  her  side. 

"  Your  bones  heap  sick  ?  Molly  rub  ^em  ? ''  she  asked 
eagerly. 

"O  Molly,  if  you  would!"  replied  Rhoda  gratefully, 
and  she  wondered  at  the  skill  and  gentleness  of  the 
Indian  woman  who  manipulated  the  aching  muscles 
with  such  rapidity  and  firmness  that  in  a  little  while 
Rhoda  staggered  stiffly  to  her  feet. 

"Molly,"  she  said,  "I  want  to  wash  my  face." 

Molly  puckered  up  her  own  face  in  her  effort  to  under- 
stand, and  scratched  her  head. 

"Don't  sabe  that,"  she  said. 

"Wash  my  face!"  repeated  Rhoda  in  atonishment. 
"Of  course  you  understand." 

Molly  laughed. 

"No!  You  no  wash!  No  use!  You  just  get  cold- 
heap  cold!" 

"Molly!"  called  Kut-le's  authoritative  voice. 

Molly  went  flying  toward  the  packs,  from  which  she 


104  THE  HEART  OF  THE  DESERT 

returned  with  a  canteen  and  a  tiny  pitch-smeared  basket. 
Kut-le  followed  with  a  towel.    He  grinned  at  Rhoda. 

"Molly  is  possessed  with  the  idea  that  anything  as  frail 
as  you  would  be  snuffed  out  like  a  candle  by  a  drop  of 
water.  You  and  I  each  possess  a  lone  lorn  towel  which 
we  must  wash  out  ourselves  till  the  end  of  the  trip.  The 
squaws  don't  know  when  a  thing  is  clean." 

Rhoda  took  the  towel  silently,  and  the  young  Indian, 
after  waiting  a  minute  as  if  in  hope  of  a  word  from  her, 
left  the  girl  to  her  difficult  toilet.  When  Rhoda  had 
finished  she  picked  up  the  field-glasses  that  Kut-le  had 
left  on  her  blankets  and  with  her  back  to  the  Indians  sat 
down  on  a  rock  to  watch  the  desert. 

The  sordid  discomforts  of  the  camp  seemed  to  her  un- 
bearable. She  hated  the  blue  haze  of  the  desert  below 
and  beyond  her.  She  hated  the  very  ponies  that  Alchise 
was  leading  up  from  water.  It  was  the  fourth  day  since 
her  abduction.  Rhoda  could  not  understand  why  John 
and  the  Newmans  were  so  slow  to  overtake  her.  She 
knew  nothing  as  yet  of  the  skill  of  her  abductors.  She 
was  like  an  ignorant  child  placed  in  a  new  world  whose 
very  ABC  was  closed  to  her.  After  always  having  been 
cared  for  and  protected,  after  never  having  known  a  hard- 
ship, the  girl  suddenly  was  thrust  into  an  existence  whose 
savage  simplicity  was  sufficient  to  try  the  hardiest 
man. 


THE  FIRST  LESSON  105 

Supper  was  eaten  in  silence,  Kut-le  finally  giving  up 
his  attempts  to  make  conversation.  It  was  dusk  when 
they  mounted  and  rode  up  the  mountain.  Near  the  crest 
a  whirling  cloud  of  mist  enveloped  them.  It  became  des- 
perately cold  and  Rhoda  shivered  beneath  her  Navajo  but 
Kut-le  gave  no  heed  to  her.  He  led  on  and  on,  the  horses 
slipping,  the  cold  growing  every  minute  more  intense.  At 
last  there  appeared  before  them  a  dim  figure  silhouetted 
against  a  flickering  light.  Kut-le  halted  his  party  and 
rode  forward;  Rhoda  saw  the  dim  figure  rise  hastily  and 
after  a  short  time  Kut-le  called  back. 

"Come  ahead!'' 

The  little  camp  was  only  an  open  space  at  the  canon 
edge,  with  a  sheepskin  shelter  over  a  tiny  fire.  Beside 
the  fire  stood  a  sheep-herder,  a  swarthy  figure  wrapped 
from  head  to  foot  in  sheepskins.  Over  in  the  darkness 
by  the  mountain  wall  were  the  many  nameless  sounds 
that  tell  of  animals  herding  for  the  night.  The  shepherd 
greeted  them  with  the  perfect  courtesy  of  the  Mexican, 

"Senors,  the  camp  is  yours!'' 

Kut-le  lifted  the  shivering  Rhoda  from  her  horse.  The 
rain  was  lessening  but  the  cold  was  still  so  great  that 
Rhoda  huddled  gratefully  by  the  little  fire  under  the 
sheepskin  shelter.  Kut-le  refused  the  Mexican's  offer  of 
tortillas  and  the  man  sat  down  to  enjoy  their  society.  He 
eyed  Rhoda  keenly. 


106  THE  HEART  OF  THE  DESERT 

"Ah!  It  is  a  senorita!"  Then  he  gasped.  'It  is 
perhaps  the  Senorita  Rhoda  Tuttle!" 

Rhoda  jumped  to  her  feet. 

"Yes!    Yes!    How  did  you  know?'' 

Kut-le  glared  at  the  herder  menacingly,  but  the  little 
fellow  did  not  see.  He  spoke  up  bravely,  as  if  he  had  a 
message  for  Rhoda. 

"  Some  people  told  me  yesterday.  They  look  for  her 
everywhere!'* 

Rhoda' s  eyes  lighted  joyfully. 

"  Who  ?    Where  ?  "  she  cried. 

Kut-le  spoke  concisely: 

"You  know  nothing!"  he  said. 

The  Mexican  looked  into  the  Apache's  eyes  and 
shivered  slightly. 

"  Nothing,  of  course,  Seiior,"  he  replied. 

But  Rhoda  was  not  daunted. 

"Who  were  they?"  she  repeated.  "What  did  they 
say  ?    Where  did  they  go  ?  " 

The  herder  glanced  at  Rhoda  and  shook  his  head. 

*^Quien  sabe?'' 

Rhoda  turned  to  Kut-le  in  anger. 

"  Don't  be  more  brutal  than  you  have  to  be!"  she  cried. 
"  What  harm  can  it  do  for  this  man  to  give  me  word  of 
my  friends?'* 

Kut-le' s  eyes  softened. 


THE  FIRST  LESSON  107 

"Answer  the  sefiorita's  questions,  amigo,''^  he  said. 

The  Mexican  began  eagerly. 

**  There  were  three.  They  rode  upthe  trail  one  day 
ago.  They  called  the  dark  man  Porter,  the  big  blue- 
eyed  one  DeWitt,  and  the  yellow-haired  one  Newman." 

Rhoda  clasped  her  hands  with  a  little  murmur  of  relief. 

"The  blue-eyed  one  acted  as  if  locoed.  They  cursed 
much  at  a  name,  Kut-le.  But  otherwise  they  talked  little. 
They  went  that  way,''  pointing  back  over  the  trail. 
They  had  found  a  scarf  with  a  stone  tied  in  it — ^^ 

"  What's  that  ?  "  interrupted  Kut-le  sharply. 

Rhoda' s  eyes  shone  in  the  firelight. 

"'Not  an  overturned  pebble  escapes  his  eye,'"  she 
"jaid  serenely. 

"Bully  for  you  1"  exclaimed  Kut-le,  smiling  at  Rhoda  in 
understanding.  "However,  I  guess  we  will  move  on, 
having  gleaned  this  interesting  news!" 

He  remounted  his  little  party.  Rhoda  reeled  a  little 
but  she  made  no  protest.  As  they  took  to  the  trail  again 
the  sheep-herder  stood  by  the  fire,  watching,  and  Rhoda 
called  to  him: 

"If  you  see  them  again  tell  them  that  I'm  all  right  but 
that  they  must  hurry!" 

Rhoda  felt  new  life  in  her  veins  after  the  meeting  with 
the  sheep-herder  and  finished  the  night's  trail  in  better 
shape  than  she  had  done  before.     Yet  not  the  next  day 


108  THE  HEART  OF  THE  DESERT 

nor  for  many  days  did  they  sight  pursuers.  With 
ingenuity  that  seemed  diabolical,  Kut-le  laid  his  course. 
He  seldom  moved  hurriedly.  Indeed,  except  for  the 
fact  that  the  traveling  was  done  by  night,  the  expedition 
had  every  aspect  of  unlimited  leisure. 

As  the  days  passed,  Rhoda  forced  herself  to  the  calm 
of  desperation.  Slowly  she  realized  that  she  was  in  the 
hands  of  the  masters  of  the  art  of  flight,  an  art  that  the 
very  cruelty  of  the  country  abetted.  But  to  her  utter 
astonishment  her  delirium  of  physical  misery  began  to  lift. 
Saddle  stiffness  after  the  first  two  weeks  left  her.  Though 
Kut-le  still  fastened  her  to  the  saddle  by  the  waist  strap 
and  rested  her  for  a  short  time  every  hour  or  so  during 
the  night's  ride,  the  hours  in  the  saddle  ceased  to  tax 
her  strength.  She  was  surprised  to  find  that  she  could 
eat — eat  the  wretched  cooking  of  the  squaws! 

At  last  she  laid  out  a  definite  course  for  herself.  Every 
night  on  the  trail  and  at  every  camp  she  tried  to  leave 
some  mark  for  the  whites — a,  scratch  on  pebble  or  stone, 
a  bit  of  marked  yucca  or  a  twisted  cat's-claw.  She 
ceased  entirely  to  speak  to  Kut-le,  treating  him  with  a 
contemptuous  silence  that  was  torture  to  the  Indian 
though  he  gave  no  outward  sign. 

Molly  was  her  devoted  friend  and  Rhoda  derived 
great  comfort  from  this  faithful  servitor.  Rhoda  sat  in 
the  camp  one  afternoon  with  the  two  squaws  while 


THE  FIRST  LESSON  189 

Kut-Ie  and  Alchise  were  off  on  a  turkey  hunt.  Some  of 
the  girl's  pallor  had  given  way  to  a  delicate  tan.  The 
dark  circles  about  her  eyes  had  lightened  a  little.  Molly 
was  busily  pounding  grass-seeds  between  two  stones. 
Rhoda  watched  her  idly.  Suddenly  a  new  idea  sent  the 
blood  to  her  thin  cheeks. 

Why  shouldn't  she  learn  to  make  seed  meal,  to  catch 
and  cook  rabbits,  to  distinguish  edible  cactus  from 
inedible?  Then  indeed  she  would  be  able  to  care  for 
herself  on  the  trail!  To  Rhoda,  who  never  had  worked 
with  her  hands,  who  indeed  had  come  to  look  on  manual 
labor  as  belonging  to  inferiors,  the  idea  was  revolutionary. 
For  a  long  time  she  turned  it  over  in  her  mind,  watching 
Molly  the  while.  The  most  violent  housewifely  task 
that  Rhoda  ever  had  undertaken  had  been  the  concocting 
of  chafing-dish  messes  at  school. 

"Molly,"  she  said  suddenly,  "teach  me  how  to  do 
that!" 

Molly  paused  and  grinned  delightedly. 

"All  right!    You  come  help  poor  Molly!" 

With  Cesca  looking  on  sardonically,  Molly  poured 
fresh  seeds  on  her  rude  metate  and  showed  Rhoda  the 
grinding  roll  that  flattened  and  broke  the  little  grains. 
Despite  her  weak  fingers  Rhoda  took  to  the  work  easily. 
As  she  emptied  out  the  first  handful  of  meal,  a  curious 
sense  of  pleasure  came  to  her.     Squatting  before  the 


110  THE  HEART  OF  THE  DESERT 

metate,  she  looked  at  the  little  pile  of  bruised  seeds  with 
the  utmost  satisfaction.  Molly  poured  more  seeds  on 
the  metate  and  Rhoda  began  again.  She  was  hard  at 
her  task,  her  cheeks  flushed  with  interest,  when  Kut-le 
returned.  Rhoda  did  not  see  the  sudden  look  of  pleasure 
in  his  eyes. 

"You  will  tire  yourself,"  he  said. 

Rhoda  did  not  answer,  but  poured  another  handful  of 
seed  on  the  metate. 

"You'll  begin  to  like  the  life,"  he  went  on,  "by  the 
time  you  are  educated  enough  to  leave  us."  He  turned 
teasingly  to  Cesca.  "You  think  the  white  squaw  can 
cross  the  desert  soon  by  herself  ? " 

Cesca  spat  disdainfully. 

"No!  White  squaw  no  good!  All  time  sit,  sit,  no 
work !    Kut-le  heap  fool  1 ' ' 

"Oh,  Cesca,"  cried  Rhoda,  "I'm  too  sick  to  work! 
And  see  this  meal  I've  made!    Isn't  it  good?'* 

Cesca  glanced  disdainfully  at  the  little  heap  of  meal 
Rhoda  had  bruised  out  so  painfully. 

"Huh!"  she  grunted.  "Feed  'em  to  the  horses.  In- 
juns no  eat  'em!" 

Rhoda  looked  from  the  meal  to  her  slender,  tired 
fingers.  Cesca's  contempt  hurt  her  unaccountably. 
In  her  weakness  her  cleft  chin  quivered.  She  turned  to 
Molly. 


THE  FIRST  LESSON  111 

"Do  you  think  it's  so  bad,  Molly?" 

That  faithful  friend  grunted  with  rage  and  aimed  a 
vicious  kick  at  Cesca.  Then  she  put  a  protecting  arm 
about  Rhoda. 

"It's  heap  fine !  Cesca  just  old  fool.  You  love  Molly. 
Let  Cesca  go  to  hell!" 

Kut-le  had  been  watching  the  little  scene  with  twidei 
eyes.  Now  he  stooped  and  lifted  Rhoda  to  her  feet, 
then  he  raised  one  of  the  delicate  hands  and  touched  it 
softly  with  his  lips. 

"Leave  such  work  to  the  squaws,  dear!  You  aren't 
built  for  it.  Cesca,  you  old  lobster,  you  make  me  tired! 
Go  fix  the  turkeys!" 

Cesca  rose  with  dignity,  flipped  away  her  cigarette 
and  walked  with  a  sniff  over  to  the  cooking-pot  Rhoda 
drew  her  hands  from  the  young  Indian's  clasp  and  walked 
to  the  edge  of  the  camp.  The  hot  pulse  that  the  touch 
of  Kut-le's  lips  sent  through  her  body  startled  her. 

"I  hate  him!"  she  said  to  herself.  "I  hate  him!  I 
hate  him!" 

The  trail  that  night  was  unusually  difficult  and  Rhoda 
had  to  be  rested  frequently.  At  each  stop,  Kut-le  tried 
to  talk  to  her  but  she  maintained  her  silence.  They 
paused  at  dawn  in  a  pocket  formed  by  the  meeting  of 
three  divergent  canons.  Far,  far  above  the  desert  as 
they  were,  still  farther  above  them  stretched  the  wonder- 


112  THE  HEART  OF  THE  DESERT 

ful  barren  ridges,  snow-capped  and  silent.  As  Rhoda 
stood  waiting  for  the  squaws  to  spread  her  blankets 
the  peaks  were  lighted  suddenly  by  the  rays  of  the  still 
unseen  sun.  For  one  unspeakable  instant  their  snow 
crowns  flashed  a  translucent  scarlet  that  trembled, 
shimmered,  then  melted  to  a  pink,  then  to  a  white  so  pure, 
so  piercing  that  Rhoda  trembled  with  sudden  awe.  Then 
as  she  looked,  the  sun  rolled  into  view,  blinding  her  eyes, 
and  she  turned  to  her  waiting  blankets. 

She  had  slept  for  several  hours  when  she  was  wakened 
by  a  soft  tap  on  her  shoulder.  She  opened  her  eyes  and 
would  have  risen  but  a  voice  whispered: 

"Hush!    Don't  mover! 


CHAPTER  VIII 

A  BROADENING  HORIZON 

"DHODA  lay  stiffly,  her  heart  beating  wildly.  Kut-le 
•■•^  and  the  squaws,  each  a  muffled,  blanketed  figure,  lay 
sleeping  some  distance  away.  Old  Alchise  stood  on 
solitary  guard  at  the  edge  of  the  camp  with  his  back  to 
her. 

"  Make  as  if  you  wanted  to  shift  your  blankets  toward 
the  cat's-claw  bush  behind  you!"  went  on  the  whispered 
voice. 

Obediently,  Rhoda  sat  erect.  Alchise  turned  slowly 
to  light  a  cigarette  out  of  the  wind.  Rhoda  yawned, 
rose  sleepily,  looked  under  her  blanket  and  shook  her 
head  irritably,  then  dragged  her  blankets  toward  the 
neighboring  cat's-claw.  Again  she  settled  herself  to 
sleep.    Alchise  turned  back  to  his  view  of  the  desert. 

"I'm  behind  the  bush  here,"  whispered  the  voice. 
"I'm  a  prospector.  Saw  you  make  camp.  I  don't 
know  where  any  of  the  search  parties  are  but  if  you  can 
crawl  round  to  me  I'll  guarantee  to  get  you  to  'em  some- 
how. Slip  out  of  your  blankets  and  leave  'em  rounded 
up  as  if  you  was  still  under  'em.  Quick  now  and 
careful!" 

8  113 


114  THE  HEART  OF  THE  DESERT 

Rhoda,  her  eyes  never  leaving  Alchise's  impassive 
back,  drew  herself  silently  and  swiftly  from  her  blankets 
and  with  a  clever  touch  or  two  rounded  them.  Then 
she  crept  around  the  cat's-claw,  where  a  man  squatted, 
his  eyes  blazing  with  excitement.  He  put  up  a  sinewy 
hand  to  pull  her  from  sight  when,  without  warning, 
Rhoda  sneezed. 

Instantly  there  was  the  click  of  a  rifle  and  Alchise 
shouted: 

"Stop!" 

"Confound  it!"  growled  the  man,  rising  to  full  view, 
"why  didn't  you  swallow  it!" 

"I  couldn't!"  replied  Rhoda  indignantly.  "You 
don't  suppose  I  wanted  to!" 

She  turned  toward  the  camp.  Alchise  was  standing 
stolidly  covering  them  with  his  rifle.  Kut-le  was  walk- 
ing coolly  toward  them,  while  the  squaws  sat  gaping. 

"Well!"  exclaimed  Kut-le.  "What  can  we  do  for 
you,  Jim?" 

The  stranger,  a  rough  tramp-like  fellow  in  tattered 
overalls,  wiped  his  face,  on  which  was  a  week's  stubble. 

"I'd  always  thought  you  was  about  white,  Cartwell," 
he  said,  "but  I  see  you're  no  better  than  the  rest  of 
them.     What  are  you  going  to  do  with  me?" 

Kut-le  eyed  his  unbidden  guest  speculatively. 

"Well,  we'll  have  something  to  eat  first.     I  don't 


A  BROADENING  HORIZON  115 

like  to  think  on  an  empty  stomach.  Come  over  to  my 
blanket  and  sit  down,  Jim." 

Ignoring  Rhoda,  who  was  watching  him  closely, 
Kut-le  seated  himself  on  his  blanket  beside  Jim  and 
offered  him  a  cigarette,  which  was  refused. 

"I  don't  want  no  favors  from  you,  Cartwell."  His 
voice  was  surly.  There  was  something  more  than  his 
rough  appearance  that  Rhoda  disliked  about  the  man 
but  she  didn't  know  just  what  it  was.  Kut-le' s  eyes 
narrowed,  but  he  lighted  his  own  cigarette  without  re- 
plying. "You're  up  to  a  rotten  trick  and  you  know 
it,  Cartwell,"  went  on  Jim.  "You  take  my  advice  and 
let  me  take  the  girl  back  to  her  friends  and  you  make 
tracks  down  into  Mexico  as  fast  as  the  Lord'll  let  you." 

Kut-le  shifted  the  Navajo  that  hung  over  his  naked 
shoulders.  He  gave  a  short  laugh  that  Rhoda  had 
never  heard  from  him  before. 

"Let  her  go  with  you,  Jim  Provenso!  You  know 
as  well  as  I  do  that  she  is  safer  with  an  Apache!  Any- 
thing else  ?  " 

"Yes,  this  else!"  Jim's  voice  rose  angrily.  "If  ever 
we  get  a  chance  at  you,  we'll  hang  you  sky  high,  see? 
This  may  go  with  Injuns  but  not  with  whites,  you 
dirty  pup!" 

Suddenly  Kut-le  rose  and,  dropping  his  blanket,  stood 
before  the  white  man  in  his  bronze  perfection. 


116  THE  HEART  OF  THE  DESERT 

"Provenso,  you  aren't  fit  to  look  at  a  decent  woman! 
Don't  put  on  dog  just  because  you  belong  to  the  white 
race.  You're  disreputable,  and  you  know  it.  Don't 
speak  to  Miss  Tuttle  again;  you  are  too  rotten!" 

The  prospector  had  risen  and  stood  glaring  at  Kut-le. 

"  I'll  kill  you  for  that  yet,  you  dirty  Injun!"  he  shouted. 

"Shucks!"  sniffed  the  Indian.  "You  haven't  the 
Berve  to  injure  anything  but  a  woman!" 

Jim's  face  went  purple. 

"For  two  bits  I'd  knock  your  block  off,  right  now." 

"There  isn't  a  cent  in  the  camp."  Kut-le  turned  to 
Rhoda.     "  You  get  the  point  of  the  conversation,  I  hope  ?" 

Rhoda's  eyes  were  blazing.  She  had  gotten  the  point, 
and  yet — ^Jim  was  a  white  man!  Anything  white  was 
better  than  an  Indian. 

"I'd  take  my  chances  with  Mr.  Provenso,"  she  said, 
joyfully  conscious  that  nothing  could  have  hurt  Kut-le 
more  than  this  reply. 

Kut-le's  lips  stiffened. 

"Lunch  is  ready,"  he  said. 

"  None  of  your  grub  for  mine,"  remarked  Jim.  "  What 
are  you  going  to  do  with  me  ?" 

"Alchise!"  called  Kut-le.  "Eat  something,  then  take 
this  fellow  out  and  lose  him.  Take  the  rest  of  the  day  to 
it.     You  know  the  next  camp!" 

Then  he  folded  his  arms  across  his  chest  and  waited 


A  BROADENING  HORIZON  117 

for  Alchise  to  finish  his  meal.  Jim  stood  in  sullen 
silence  for  a  minute.  Then  he  seated  himself  on  a 
nearby  rock. 

*^No,  you  don't,"  he  said.  "  If  you  get  me  out  of  here, 
you'll  have  to  use  force." 

Kut-le  shrugged  his  shoulders. 

"A  gun  at  your  back  will  move  you!" 

Rhoda  was  looking  at  the  white  man's  face  with  a 
great  longing.  He  was  rough  and  ugly,  but  he  was  of 
her  own  breed.  Suddenly  the  longing  for  her  own  that 
she  was  beginning  to  control  surged  to  her  lips. 

"I  can't  bear  this!"  she  cried.  "I'm  going  mad  I 
I'm  going  mad!" 

All  the  camp  turned  startled  faces  toward  the  girl,  and 
Rhoda  recovered  her  self-possession.  She  ran  to  Kut-le 
and  laid  her  hand  on  his  arm,  lifting  a  lovely,  pleading 
face  to  his. 

"O  Kut-le!  Kut-le!"  in  the  tone  that  she  had  used  to 
Cartwell.  "  Can't  you  see  that  it's  no  use?  He  is  white, 
Kut-le!  Let  me  go  with  him!  Let  me  go  back  to  my 
own  people!    O  Kut-le,  let  me  go!    O  let  me  go!" 

Kut-le  looked  down  at  the  hand  on  his  arm.  Rhoda 
was  too  excited  to  notice  that  his  whole  body  shook  at 
this  unwonted  touch.  His  voice  was  caressing  but  his 
face  remained  inscrutable. 

"Dear  girl,"  he  answered,  "he  is  not  your  kind!    He 


118  THE  HEART  OF  THE  DESERT 

might  originally  have  been  of  your  color,  but  now  he's 
streaked  with  yellow.  Let  him  go.  You  are  safer  here 
with  me!" 

Rhoda  turned  from  him  impatiently. 

"It's  quite  useless,"  she  said  to  Jim;  "no  pleading  or 
threat  will  move  him.  But  I  do  thank  you — "  her  voice 
breaking  a  little.  "  Go  back  with  Alchise  and  tell  them 
to  come  for  me  quickly!" 

Some  responsive  flash  of  sympathy  came  to  Jim's 
bleared  eyes. 

Rhoda  stood  watching  Alchise  marshall  him  out  of 
the  camp.     She  moaned  helplessly: 

"O  my  people,  my  own  people!"  and  Kut-le  eyed  her 
with  unfathomable  gaze. 

As  soon  as  lunch  was  finished,  camp  was  broken.  All 
the  rest  of  the  day  and  until  toward  midnight  they  wound 
up  a  wretched  trail  that  circled  the  mountain  ranges. 
For  hours,  Kut-le  did  not  speak  to  Rhoda.  These  days 
of  Rhoda's  contempt  were  very  hard  on  him.  The 
touch  of  her  hand  that  morning,  the  old  note  in  her  voice, 
still  thrilled  him.  At  midnight  as  they  watched  the 
squaws  unroll  her  blankets,  he  touched  her  shoulder. 

"Dear,"  he  said,  in  his  rich  voice,  "it  is  in  you  to 
love  me  if  only  I  am  patient.  And — God,  but  it's 
worth  all  the  starvation  in  the  meantime!  Won't  you 
say  good-night  to  me,  Rhoda  ?" 


A  BROADENING  HORIZON  119 

Rhoda  looked  at  the  stalwart  figure  in  the  firelight. 
The  young  eyes  so  tragic  in  their  youth,  the  beautiful 
mouth,  sad  in  its  firm  curves,  were  strangely  appealing. 
Just  for  an  instant  the  horrors  of  the  past  weeks  vanished. 

"Good-night!"  said  Rhoda.  Then  she  rolled  herself 
in  her  blankets  and  slept.  By  the  next  morning,  how- 
ever, the  old  repulsion  had -returned  and  she  made  no 
response  to  Kut-le's  overtures. 

Day  succeeded  day  now,  until  Rhoda  lost  all  track  of 
time.  Endlessly  they  crossed  desert  and  mountain 
ridges.  Endlessly  they  circled  through  dusky  canon  and 
sun-baked  anoyo.  Always  Rhoda  looked  forward  to 
each  new  camping-place  with  excitement.  Here,  the 
rescuers  might  stumble  upon  them!  Always  she  started 
at  each  unexpected  shadow  along  the  trail.  Always  she 
thrilled  at  a  wisp  of  smokelike  cloud  beyond  the  canon 
edge.  Always  she  felt  a  quiver  of  certainty  at  sudden 
break  of  twig  or  fall  of  stone.  But  the  days  passed  and 
gradually  hope  changed  to  desperation. 

The  difiiculties  of  the  camp  life  would  have  been  unbeai  - 
able  to  her  had  not  her  natural  fortitude  and  her  intense 
pride  come  to  her  rescue.  The  estimate  of  her  that  Kut-le 
had  so  mercilessly  presented  to  her  the  first  day  of  her  ab- 
duction returned  to  her  more  and  more  clearly  as  the  days 
wore  on.  At  first  she  thought  of  them  only  with  scorn. 
Then  as  her  loneliness  increased  and  she  was  forced  back 


120  THE  HEART  OF  THE  DESERT 

upon  herself  she  grew  to  wonder  what  in  her  had  given  the 
Indian  such  an  opinion.  There  was  something  in  the 
nakedness  of  the  desert,  something  in  its  piercing  austerity 
that  forced  her  to  truthfulness  with  herself.  Little  by 
little  she  found  herself  trying  to  acquire  Kut-le's  view  of 
her. 

Her  liking  for  Molly  grew.  She  spent  long  afternoons 
with  the  squaw,  picking  up  desert  lore. 

"Do  you  like  to  work,  Molly?"  she  asked  the  squaw 
one  afternoon,  as  she  sorted  seed  for  Molly  to  bruise. 

"What  else  to  do?"  asked  Molly.  "Sit  with  hands 
folded  on  stomach,  so?  No!  Still  hands  make  crazy 
head.  Now  you  work  with  your  hands  you  no  so  sorry 
in  head,  huh  ?" 

Rhoda  thought  for  a  moment.  There  was  a  joy  in  the 
rude  camp  tasks  that  she  had  assumed  that  she  never  had 
found  in  golf  or  automobiling.  She  nodded,  then  said 
wistfully: 

"You  think  I'm  no  good  at  all,  don't  you,  Molly?" 

Molly  shrugged  her  shoulders. 

"  Me  not  got  papooses.  You  not  got  papooses.  Molly 
and  you  no  good!  Molly  is  heap  strong.  What  good  is 
that?  When  she  die  she  no  has  given  her  strength  to 
tribe,  no  done  any  good  that  will  last.  You  are  heap 
beautiful.  What  good  is  that?  You  no  give  your  face 
to  your  tribe.     What  good  are  you  ?     Molly  and  you 


A  BROADENING  HORIZON  121 

might  as  well  die  tomorrow.  Work,  have  papooses,  die* 
That  all  squaws  are  for.  Great  Spirit  says  so.  Squaw's 
own  heart  says  so." 

Rhoda  sat  silently  looking  at  the  squaw's  squat  figure, 
the  toil-scarred  fingers,  the  good  brown  eyes  out  of  which 
looked  a  woman's  soul.  Vaguely  Rhoda  caught  a  point  of 
view  that  made  her  old  ideals  seem  futile.  She  smoothed 
the  Indian  woman's  hands. 

"  I  sometimes  think  you  are  a  bigger  woman  than  I  am, 
Molly,"  she  said  humbly. 

"  You  are  heap  good  to  look  at."  Molly  spoke  wistfully. 
"  Molly  heap  homely.  You  think  that  makes  any  differ- 
ence to  the  Great  Spirit?" 

Rhoda' s  eyes  widened  a  little.  Did  it  make  any  differ- 
ence? After  all,  what  counted  with  the  Great  Spirit? 
She  stared  at  the  barren  ranges  that  lifted  mute  peaks  to 
the  silent  heavens.  Always,  always  the  questions  and  so 
vague  the  answers!  Suddenly  Rhoda  knew  that  her 
beauty  had  counted  greatly  with  her  all  her  life,  had  given 
h  er  her  sense  of  superiority  to  the  rest  of  the  world.  Rhoda 
squirmed.  She  hated  this  faculty  of  the  Indians  and  the 
desert  to  make  her  seem  small.  She  never  had  felt  so 
with  her  own  kind.  Her  own  kind!  Would  she  never 
again  know  the  deference,  the  gentleness,  the  loviiig 
tenderness  of  her  own  people?  Rhoda  forgot  Molly's 
wistful  question. 


122  THE  HEART  OF  THE  DESERT 

"O  Molly  !"  she  cried.  "I  can't  stand  this!  I  want 
my  own  people!    I  want  my  own  people! " 

Molly's  eyes  filled  with  tears. 

"No!  No  cry,  little  Sun-streak!"  she  pleaded,  putting 
oil  arm  around  Rhoda  and  holding  her  to  her  tenderly. 
"  Any  peoples  that  loves  you  is  your  own  peoples.  Kut-le 
loves  you.    Molly  loves  you.  We  your  peoples  too!" 

"No!  No!  Never!"  sobbed  Rhoda.  "Molly,  if  you 
love  me,  take  me  back  to  my  own  kind!  You  shall  never 
leave  me,  Molly!  I  do  love  you.  You  are  an  Indian  but 
somehow  I  have  a  feeling  for  you  I  never  had  for  any  one 
else." 

A  sudden  light  of  passionate  adoration  burned  in 
Molly's  eyes,  a  light  that  never  was  to  leave  them 
again  when  they  gazed  on  Rhoda.  But  she  shook  her 
head. 

"  You  ask  Molly  to  give  up  her  peoples  but  you  don't 
want  to  give  up  yours.  You  stay  with  Molly  and  Kut-le. 
Learn  what  desert  say  'bout  life,  'bout  people.  When 
you  mbe  what  the  desert  say  'bout  that  you  sabe  almost 
much  as  Great  Spirit!" 

Molly,  listen !  When  Kut-le  and  Alchise  go  off  on  one 
of  their  hunts  and  Cesca  goes  to  sleep,  you  and  I  will 
steal  off  and  hide  until  night,  and  you  will  show  me  how 
to  get  home  again.  O  Molly,  I'll  be  very  good  to  you 
if  you  will  do  this  for  me!     Don't  you  see  how  foolish 


A  BROADENING  HORIZON  123 

Kut-k  is  ?  I  can  never,  never  marry  him!  His  ways  are 
not  my  ways.  My  ways  are  not  his!  Always  I  will  be 
white  and  he  Indian.  He  will  get  over  this  craze  for  me 
and  want  one  of  his  own  kind.  Molly,  listen  to  your 
heart!  It  must  tell  you  white  to  the  white,  Indian  to  the 
Indian.     Dear,  dear  Molly,  I  want  to  go  home ! " 

"No!  No!  Molly  promise  Kut-le  to  keep  his  white 
squaw  for  him.  Injuns  they  always  keep  promises.  And 
Molly  sabe  some  day  when  you  learn  more  you  be  heap 
glad  old  Molly  keep  you  for  Kut-le." 

Rhoda  turned  away  with  a  sigh  at  the  note  of  finality  in 
Molly's  voice.  Kut-le  was  climbing  the  trail  toward  the 
camp  with  a  little  pile  of  provisions.  So  far  he  had  not 
failed  to  procure  when  needed  some  sort  of  rations — ^bacon, 
flour  and  coffee — though  since  her  abduction  Rhoda  had 
seen  no  human  habitation.  Cesca  was  preparing  supper. 
She  was  pounding  a  piece  of  meat  on  a  flat  stone,  mutter- 
ing to  herself  when  a  piece  fell  to  the  ground.  Sometimes 
she  wiped  the  sand  from  the  fallen  bit  on  her  skirt.  More 
often  she  flung  it  into  the  stew-pot  imwiped. 

"Cesca!"  cried  Rhoda,  "do  keep  the  burro  out  of  the 
meat!"  The  burro  that  Kut-le  recently  had  acquired 
was  sniffing  at  the  meat. 

Cesca  gave  no  heed  except  to  murmur,  "Burro  heap 
hungry!" 

"I  am  going  to  begin  to  cook  my  own  meals,  Molly," 


iU  THE  HEART  OF  THE  DESERT 

said  Rhoda.  "I  am  strong  enough  now,  and  Cesca  is 
so  dirty!" 

Kut-Ie  entered  the  camp  in  time  to  hear  Rhoda's 
resolution. 

"Will  you  let  me  eat  with  you?'*  he  asked  courteously. 
'*I  don't  enjoy  dirt,  myself!'* 

Rhoda  stared  at  the  young  man.  The  calm  effrontery 
of  him,  the  cleverness  of  him,  to  ask  a  favor  of  her!  She 
turned  from  him  to  the  distant  ranges.  She  did  not 
realize  how  much  she  turned  from  the  roughness  of  the 
camp  to  the  far  desert  views!  Brooding,  aloof,  how  big 
the  ranges  were,  how  free,  how  calm!  For  the  first  time 
her  keeping  Kut-le  in  Coventry  seemed  foolish  to  her. 
Of  what  avail  was  her  silence,  except  to  increase  her 
own  loneliness?  Suddenly  she  smiled  grimly.  The 
game  was  a  good  one.  Perhaps  she  could  play  it  as 
well  as  the  Indian. 

"If  you  wish,  you  may,*'  she  said  coldly. 

Then  she  ignored  the  utter  joy  and  astonishment  in  the 
young  man's  face  and  set  about  roasting  the  rabbit  that 
Molly  had  dressed.  She  tossed  the  tortillas  as  Molly 
had  taugnt  her  and  baked  them  over  the  coals.  She  set 
forth  the  cans  and  baskets  that  formed  the  camp  dinner- 
set  and  served  the  primitive  meal.  Kut-le  watched  the 
preparations  silently.  When  the  rabbit  was  cooked  the 
two  sat  down  on  either  side  of  the  flat  rock  that  served  as  a 


A  BROADENING  HORIZON  125 

table  while  the  other  three  squatted  about  Cesca's  stew- 
pot  near  the  fire. 

It  was  the  first  time  that  Rhoda  and  Kut-le  had  eaten 
tete-k-tete.  Hitherto  Rhoda  had  taken  her  food  o£E  to 
a  secluded  comer  and  eaten  it  alone.  There  was  ao  inti- 
macy in  thus  sitting  together  at  the  meal  Rhoda  had 
prepared,  that  both  felt. 

"Are  you  glad  you  did  this  for  me,  Rhoda?"  asked 
Kut-le. 

"I  didn't  do  it  for  you!''  returned  Rhoda.  "I  did  it 
for  my  own  comfort!" 

Something  in  her  tone  narrowed  the  Indian's  eyes. 

"  Why  should  you  speak  as  a  queen  to  a  poor  devil  of  a 
subject?  By  what  particular  mark  of  superiority  are 
you  exempt  from  work?  For  a  time  you  have  had  the 
excuse  of  illness,  but  you  no  longer  have  that.  I  should 
say  that  making  tortillas  was  better  than  sitting  in  sloth 
while  they  are  made  for  you!  Do  you  never  have  any 
sense  of  shame  that  you  are  forever  taking  and  never 
giving?" 

Rhoda  answered  angrily. 

"  I'm  not  at  all  interested  in  your  opinions.  '* 

But  the  young  Apache  went  on. 

"  It  makes  me  tired  to  hear  the  white  women  of  your 
class  talk  of  their  equality  to  men !  You  don't  do  a  thing 
to  make  you  equal.    You  live  off  some  one  else.    You 


126  THE  HEART  OF  THE  DESERT 

don*t  even  produce  children.  Huh!  No  wonder  nature 
kicks  you  out  with  all  manner  of  illness.  You  are  mere 
doggers  of  the  machinery.  For  heaven's  sake,  wake  up, 
Rhoda!  Except  for  your  latent  possibilities,  you  aren't 
in  it  with  Molly!" 

"You  have  some  touchstone,  I  suppose,"  replied 
Rhoda  contemptuously,  "by  which  you  are  made  com- 
petent to  sit  in  judgment  on  mankind  ?  " 

"I  sure  have!"  said  Kut-le.  "It  is  that  you  so  live 
that  you  die  spiritually  richer  than  you  were  born.  Life 
is  a  simple  thing,  after  all.  To  keep  one's  body  and  soul 
healthy,  to  bear  children,  to  give  more  than  we  take* 
And  I  believe  that  in  the  end  it  will  seem  to  have  been 
worth  while. " 

Rhoda  made  no  answer.  Kut-le  ate  on  in  silence  for 
a  time,  then  he  said  wistfully: 

"Don't  you  enjoy  this  meal  with  me,  just  a  little?" 

Rhoda  glanced  from  Kut-le's  naked  body  to  her  own 
torn  clothing,  then  at  the  crude  meal. 

"  I  don't  enjoy  it,  no, "  she  answered  quietly. 

Something  in  the  quiet  sincerity  of  the  voice  caused 
Kut-le  to  rise  abruptly  and  order  the  Indians  to  break 
camp.  But  on  the  trail  that  night  he  rode  close  beside 
her  whenever  the  way  permitted  and  talked  to  her  of 
the  beauty  of  the  desert.  At  last,  lashed  to  desperation 
by  her  indifference,  he  cried: 


A  BROADENING  HORIZON  127 

"Can't  you  see  that  your  silence  leads  to  nothing-— 
that  it  maddens  me!" 

"  That  is  what  I  want  it  to  do, ''  returned  Rhoda  calmly. 
"  I  shall  be  so  glad  if  I  can  make  you  suffer  a  touch  of 
what  I  am  enduring!" 

Kut-le  did  not  reply  for  a  moment,  then  he  began  slowly : 

"You  imagine  that  I  am  not  suffering?  Try  to  put 
yourself  in  my  place  for  a  moment!  Can't  you  see  how 
I  love  you  ?  Can't  you  see  that  my  stealing  was  the  only 
thing  that  I  could  do,  loving  you  so  ?  Wouldn't  you  have 
done  the  same  in  my  place  ?  If  I  had  been  a  white  man 
I  wouldn't  have  been  driven  to  this.  I  would  have  had 
an  equal  chance  with  DeWitt  and  could  have  won  easily. 
But  I  had  all  the  prejudice  against  my  alien  race  to 
fight.  There  was  but  one  thing  to  do:  to  take  you  to 
the  naked  desert  where  you  would  be  forced  to  see  life 
as  I  see  it,  where  you  would  be  forced  to  see  me,  the 
man,  far  from  any  false  standards  of  civilization. " 

Rhoda  would  have  replied  but  Kut-le  gave  her  no 
chance. 

"  I  know  what  white  conventions  demand  of  me.  But, 
I  tell  you,  my  love  is  above  them.  I,  not  suffer!  Rhoda! 
To  see  you  in  pain!  To  see  your  loathing  of  me!  To 
have  you  helpless  in  my  arms  and  yet  to  keep  you  safe  I 
Rhoda!    Rhoda!    Do  you  believe  I  do  not  suffer?" 

Anger  died  out  of  Rhoda.     She  saw  tragedy  in  the 


128  THE  HEART  OF  THE  DESERT 

situation,  tragedy  that  was  not  hers.  She  saw  herself 
and  Kut-Ie  racially,  not  individually.  She  saw  Kut-le 
suffering  all  the  helpless  grief  of  race  alienation,  saw  him 
the  victim  of  passions  as  great  as  the  desires  of  the  alien 
races  for  the  white  always  must  be.  Rhoda  forgot  her- 
self.    She  laid  a  slender  hand  on  Kut-le's. 

"I  am  sorry,"  she  said  softly.  "I  think  I  begin  to 
understand.  But,  Kut-le,  it  can  never,  never  be!  You 
are  fighting  a  battle  that  was  lost  when  the  white  and 
Indian  races  were  created.  It  can  never,  never  be, 
Kut-le." 

The  strong  brown  hand  had  closed  over  the  small 
white  one  instantly. 

"It  must  be!"  he  said  hoarsely.  "I  put  my  whole 
life  on  it!    It  must  be!" 

Rhoda  pulled  her  hand  away  gently. 

"It  never,  never  can  be!" 

"It  shall  be!  Love  like  this  comes  but  seldom  to  a 
human.  It  is  the  most  potent  thing  in  the  world.  It 
shall—" 

"Kut-le ! "    Alchise  rode  forward,  pointing  to  the  right, 

Rhoda  followed  his  look.  It  was  nearly  dawn.  At 
the  right  was  the  sheer  wall  of  a  mesa  as  smooth  and 
impregnable  to  her  eyes  as  a  wall  of  glass.  Moving  to- 
ward them,  silent  as  ghosts  in  the  veil-like  dawn,  and 
cutting  them  from  the  mesa,  was  a  group  of  horsemen. 


CHAPTER  IX 


TOUCH  AND  GO 


npHE  John  DeWitt  who  helped  break  camp  after  find- 
-*•  ing  Rhoda's  scarf  was  a  different  man  from  the  half- 
crazed  person  of  the  three  days  previous.  He  had  begun 
to  hope.  Somehow  that  white  scarf  with  Rhoda's  per- 
fume clinging  to  it  was  a  living  thing  to  him,  a  livings 
pulsing  promise  that  Rhoda  was  helping  him  to  find  her. 
Now,  while  Jack  and  Billy  were  feverishly  eager,  he  was 
cool  and  clear-headed,  leaving  the  leadership  to  Billy 
still,  yet  doing  more  than  his  share  of  the  work  in  pre- 
paring for  the  hard  night  ahead  of  them.  The  horses 
were  well  watered,  their  own  canteens  were  filled  and 
saturated  and  food  so  prepared  that  it  could  be  eaten 
from  the  saddle. 

"For,"  said  Porter,  "when  we  do  hit  the  little  girl's 
trail,  starvation  or  thirst  or  high  hell  ain't  goin'  to  stop 
us!" 

It  was  mid-afternoon  when  they  started  down  the 
mountainside.  There  was  no  trail  and  going  was  pain- 
ful but  the  men  moved  with  the  care  of  desperation. 
9  129 


130  THE  HEART  OF  THE  DESERT 

Once  in  the  canon  they  moved  slowly  along  the  wall  and 
some  two  miles  from  where  the  scarf  had  been  found, 
they  discovered  a  fault  where  climbing  was  possible. 
It  was  nearing  rundown  when  they  reached  a  wide  ledge 
where  the  way  was  easy.  Porter  led  the  way  back  over 
this  to  the  spot  below  which  fluttered  a  white  paper 
to  mark  the  place  where  the  scarf  had  been  found.  The 
ledge  deepened  here  to  make  room  for  a  tiny,  bubbling 
spring.  Giant  boulders  were  scattered  across  the  rocky 
floor. 

The  three  men  dismounted.  The  ledge  gave  no  trace 
of  human  occupancy  and  yet  Porter  and  Jack  nodded  at 
each  other. 

"Here  was  his  camp,  all  right.    Water,  and  no  one 
could  come  within  a  mile  of  him  without  his  being  seen. " 

"He's  still  covering  his  traces  carefully,"  said  Jack. 

"Not  so  very,"  answered  Porter.  "He's  banking  a 
whole  lot  on  our  stupidity,  but  Miss  Tuttle  beat  him 
to  it  with  her  scarf." 

The  three  men  treated  the  ledge  to  a  microscopic  exami- 
nation but  they  found  no  trace  of  previous  occupation 
until  Billy  knelt  and  put  his  nose  against  a  black  out- 
cropping of  stone  in  the  wall.  Then  he  gave  a  satisfied 
grunt. 

"Come  here,  Jack,  and  take  a  sniff." 

Jack  knelt  obediently  and  cried  excitedly: 


TOUCH  AND  GO  131 

"It  smells  of  smoke,  by  Jove!  Don't  it  John,  old 
scout!" 

"They  knew  smoke  wouldn't  show  against  a  black  out- 
crop, but  they  didn't  bank  on  my  nose!"  said  Billy  com- 
placently.    "  Come  ahead,  boys. " 

A  short  distance  from  the  spring  they  found  a  trail 
which  led  back  up  the  mountain,  and  as  dusk  came  on 
they  followed  its  dizzy  turns  until  darkness  forced  them 
to  halt  and  wait  until  the  moon  rose.  By  its  light  they 
moved  up  into  a  piiion  forest. 

"Let's  wait  here  until  daylight,"  suggested  Jack. 
"It's  a  good  place  for  a  camp." 

"No,  it's  too  near  the  ledge,"  objected  Billy.  "Of 
course  we  are  working  on  faith  mostly.  I'm  no  Sherlock 
Holmes.  We'll  keep  to  the  backbone  of  this  range  for  a 
while.  It's  the  wildest  spot  in  New  Mexico.  Kut-le 
will  avoid  the  railroad  over  by  the  next  range. " 

So  Billy  led  his  little  band  steadfastly  southward.  At 
dawn  they  met  a  Mexican  shepherd  herding  his  sheep  in 
a  grassy  canon.  Jack  Newman  called  to  him  eagerly  and 
the  Mexican  as  eagerly  answered.  A  visitor  was  worth 
a  month's  pay  to  the  lonely  fellow.  The  red  of  dawn 
was  painting  the  fleecy  backs  of  his  charges  as  the 
tired  Americans  rode  into  his  little  camp. 

"Seen  anything  of  an  Injun  running  away  with  a 
white  girl  ?  "  asked  Billy  without  preliminaries. 


132  THE  HEART  OF  THE  DESERT 

The  Mexican's  jaw  dropped. 

''Sacra  Maria! "  he  gasped.     "  Not  I !    Who  is  she  ?  " 

"Listen!"  broke  in  Jack.  "You  be  on  the  watch. 
An  educated  Indian  has  stolen  a  young  lady  who  was 
visiting  my  wife.  I  own  the  Newman  ranch.  That 
Indian  Cartwell  it  was,  three  days  ago." 

John  DeWitt  interrupted. 

^*If  you  can  catch  that  Indian,  if  you  can  give  us  a 
clue  to  him,  you  needn't  herd  sheep  any  more.  Lord, 
man,  speak  up!     Don't  stand  there  like  a  chump!" 

"But,  sefiors!"  stammered  the  poor  fellow  to  whom 
this  sudden  torrent  of  conversation  was  as  overwhelming 
as  a  cloudburst.    "  But  I  have  not  seen — " 

Billy  Porter  spoke  again. 

"Hold  up,  boys!  We  are  scaring  the  poor  devil  to 
death.  Friend  pastor,"  he  said, "  we'll  have  breakfast  here 
with  you,  if  you  don't  object,  and  tell  you  our  troubles." 

The  shepherd  glowed  with  hospitality. 

"Yonder  is  good  water  and  I  have  tortillas  and  frijoles." 

Unshaven  and  dirty,  gaunt  from  lack  of  sleep,  the 
three  men  dismounted  wearily  and  gladly  turned  their 
coffee  and  bacon  over  to  the  herder  to  whom  the  mere 
odor  of  either  was  worth  any  amount  of  service.  As 
th^  ate.  Jack  and  Billy  quizzed  the  Mexican  as  to  the 
topography  of  the  surrounding  country.  The  little 
herder  was  a  canny  chap. 


TOUCH  AND  GO  ISS 

"He  will  not  try  to  cover  his  trail  carefully  now,"  he 
said,  swallowing  huge  slabs  of  bacon.  "He  has  a  good 
start.  You  will  have  to  fool  him.  He  sleeps  by  day  and 
travels  by  night,  you  will  see.  You  are  working  toe 
hard  and  your  horses  will  be  dead.  You  should  have 
slept  last  night.  Now  you  will  lose  today  because  you 
must  rest  your  horses." 

Porter  looked  at  his  two  companions.  Jack  was 
doing  fairly  well,  but  the  calm  that  DeWitt  had  found 
with  Rhoda's  scarf  had  deserted  him.  He  was  eating 
scarcely  anything  and  stared  impatiently  at  the  fire,  wait- 
ing for  the  start. 

"I'm  a  blamed  double-action  jackass,  with  a  peanut 
for  a  mind!"  exclaimed  Porter.  "Taking  on  myself  to 
lead  this  hunt  when  I  don't  sabe  frijoles!  We  take  a 
sleep  now." 

DeWitt  jumped  to  his  feet,  expostulating,  but  Jack 
and  Billy  laid  a  hand  on  either  of  his  shoulders  and 
forced  him  to  lie  down  on  his  blanket.  There  nature 
claimed  her  own  and  in  a  short  time  the  poor  fellow  was 
in  the  slumber  of  exhaustion. 

"Poor  old  chap!"  said  Jack  as  he  spread  his  own 
blanket.  "I  can't  help  thinking  all  the  time  'What  if  it 
were  Katherine!*  Dear  old  Rhoda!  Why,  Billy,  we 
used  to  play  together  as  kids!  She's  slapped  my  face, 
Hianyatime!" 


134  THE  HEART  OF  THE  DESERT 

"Probably  you  deserved  it!"  answered  Billy  in  aa 
uncertain  voice.  "By  the  limping  piper!  I'm  glad  I 
ain't  her  financier.     I'm  most  crazy,  as  it  is!" 

The  sheep  herder  woke  the  sleepers  at  noon.  After 
a  bath  at  the  spring,  and  dinner,  the  trio  felt  as  if  reborn. 
They  left  the  herder  with  minute  directions  as  to  what 
he  was  to  do  in  case  he  heard  of  Rhoda.  Then  they 
rode  out  of  the  canon  into  the  burning  desert. 

And  now  for  several  days  they  lost  all  clues.  They 
beat  up  and  down  the  ranges  like  tired  hunting-dogs,  all 
their  efforts  fruitless.  Little  by  little,  panic  and  excite- 
ment left  them.  Even  DeWitt  realized  that  the  hunt 
was  to  be  a  long  and  serious  one  as  Porter  told  of  the 
fearful  chases  the  Apaches  had  led  the  whites,  time  and 
again.  He  began  to  realize  that  to  keep  a,live  in  the 
terrible  region  through  which  the  hunt  was  set  he  must 
help  the  others  to  conserve  their  own  and  his  energies. 
To  this  end  they  ate  and  slept  as  regularly  as  they  could. 

Occasionally  they  met  other  parties  of  searchers, 
but  this  was  only  when  they  beat  to  the  eastward  toward 
the  ranch,  for  most  of  the  searchers  were  now  convinced 
that  Kut-le  had  made  toward  Mexico  and  they  were 
patrolling  the  border.  But  Billy  insisted  that  Kut-le 
was  making  for  some  eerie  that  he  knew  and  would 
ensconce  himself  there  for  months,  if  need  be,  till  the 
search  was  given  up.     Then  and  then  only  would  he 


TOUCH  AND  GO  135 

make  for  Mexico.  And  John  DeWitt  and  Jack  had 
come  to  agree  with  Billy. 

"  He'll  keep  her  up  in  some  haunt  of  his,"  said  Jack, 
again  and  again,  "until  he*s  worn  her  into  consenting 
to  marry  him.  And  before  that  happens,  if  I  know  old 
Rhoda,  we'll  find  them." 

"He's  mine  when  we  do  find  him,  remember  that," 
John  DeWitt  always  said  through  his  teeth  at  this  point 
in  the  discussion. 

It  was  on  the  twelfth  day  of  the  hunt  that  the  sheep- 
herder  found  them.  They  were  cinching  up  the  packs 
after  the  noon  rest  when  he  rode  up  on  a  burro.  He  was 
dust-coated  and  both  he  and  the  burro  were  panting. 

"I've  seen  her!  I've  seen  the  seiiorita!"  he  shouted  as 
he  clambered  stifily  from  the  burro. 

The  three  Americans  stood  rigid. 

"Where?  How?  When?"  came  from  three  heat- 
cracked  mouths. 

The  Mexican  started  to  answer,  but  his  throat  was  raw 
with  alkali  dust  and  his  voice  was  scarcely  audible. 
DeWitt  impatiently  thrust  a  canteen  into  the  little  fellow's 
hands. 

"Hurry,  for  heaven's  sake!"  he  urged. 

The  Mexican  took  a  deep  draught. 

"The  night  after  you  left  I  moved  up  into  the  peaks, 
intending  to  cross  the  range  to  lower  pastures  next  day. 


I^fi  THE  HEART  OF  THE  DESERT 

A  big  storm  came  up  and  I  made  camp.  Then  an  Indiam 
in  a  blanket  rode  up  to  me  and  asked  me  if  I  was  alo»e. 
I  sabed  him  at  once.  *But  yes,  sefior,'  I  answered^ 
'except  for  the  sheep!*" 

"But  Miss  Tuttle!    The  seiiorita!"  shouted  DeWitt. 

The  Mexican  glanced  at  the  tired  blue  eyes,  the  strained 
face,  pityingly. 

"She  was  well,"  he  answered.  "Be  patient,  senor. 
Then  there  rode  up  another  Indian,  two  squaws  and  what 
looked  to  be  a  young  boy.  The  Indian  lifted  the  bey 
from  the  saddle  so  tenderly,  seiiors.  And  it  was  your 
seiiorita!  She  did  not  look  strong,  yet  I  think  the  Indian 
is  taking  good  care  of  her.  They  sat  by  the  fire  till  the 
storm  was  over.  The  seiiorita  ignored  Kut-le  as  if  he 
had  been  a  dog." 

Porter  clinched  his  teeth  at  this,  while  Jack  murmured 
with  a  gleam  of  savage  satisfaction  in  his  eyes,  "Old 
Rhoda! "  But  DeWitt  only  gnawed  his  lip,  with  his  blue 
eyes  on  the  Mexican. 

"The  Indian  said  I  was  to  say  nothing,  but  the  senorita 
made  him  let  me  tell  about  you  after  I  said  I  had  seen  you. 
She — she  cried  with  happiness.  They  rode  away  in  a 
little  while  but  I  followed  as  long  as  I  dared  to  leave 
my  sheep.  They  were  going  north.  I  think  they  were 
in  the  railroad  range  the  night  you  were  with  me,  then 
doubled  back.    I  left  my  sheep  the  next  day  with  the 


TOUCH  AND  GO  137 

salt-boy  who  came  up.  I  tramped  twenty  miles  to  the 
rancho  and  got  a  burro  and  left  word  about  the  seiiorHa 
Then  I  started  on  your  trail.  Everyone  I  met  I  told.  I 
thought  that  my  news  was  not  worth  much  except  that 
the  senor  there  would  be  glad  to  know  that  the  Indian 
is  tender  to  his  senorita.  *' 

DeWitt  turned  to  Porter  and  Newman. 

"Friends,  perhaps  she  is  being  taken  care  of!"  he  said. 
"Perhaps  that  devil  is  trying  to  keep  her  health,  at  least. 
God!    If  nothing  worse  has  befallen  her!" 

He  stopped  and  drew  his  wrist  across  his  forehead. 
Something  like  tears  shone  in  Jack's  eyes,  and  Porter 
coughed.  John  turned  to  the  Mexican  and  grasped  the 
little  fellow's  hand. 

"  My  boy,"  he  said,  "you'll  never  regret  this  day's  work. 
If  you  have  a  senorita  you  know  what  you  have  done 
forme!" 

The  Mexican  looked  up  into  DeWitt's  face  seriously. 

"I  have  one.     She  has  a  dimple  in  her  chin." 

John  turned  abruptly  and  stood  staring  into  the  desert 
while  tears  seared  his  eyes.  Billy  hastily  unpacked  and 
gave  Carlos  and  his  burro  the  best  that  the  outfit  afforded. 

"Can  the  salt-boy  stay  on  with  the  sheep  while  you 
come  with  us  ?  "  asked  John  DeWitt.  "  I'll  pay  your  boss 
for  the  whole  flock  if  anything  goes  wrong."  He  wanted 
tke  keen  wit  of  the  herder  on  the  hunt. 


138  THE  HEART  OF  THE  DESERT 

The  Mexican  nodded  eagerly. 

"I'll  stay!" 

Shortly  the  four  were  riding  northward  across  the  desert. 
They  were  in  fairly  good  shape  for  a  hard  ride.  Two 
days  before,  they  had  stopped  at  Squaw  Spring  ranch 
and  re-outfitted.  With  proper  care  of  the  horses  they 
were  good  for  three  weeks  away  from  supplies.  And  for 
two  weeks  now  they  scoured  the  desert,  meeting  scarcely 
a  human,  finding  none  of  the  traces  that  Rhoda  was  so 
painfully  dropping  along  her  course.  The  hugeness,  the 
cruelty  of  the  region  drove  the  hopelessness  of  their 
mission  more  and  more  deeply  into  DeWitt's  brain.  It 
seemed  impossible  except  by  the  merest  chance  to  find  trace 
of  another  human  in  a  waste  so  vast.  It  seemed  to  him 
that  it  was  not  skill  but  the  gambler's  instinct  for  luck 
that  guided  Carlos  and  Billy. 

They  rode  through  open  desert  country  one  afternoon, 
the  only  mountains  discernible  being  a  far  purple  haze 
along  the  horizon.  For  hours  the  little  cavalcade  had 
moved  without  speech.  Then  to  the  north.  Porter  dis- 
cerned a  dot  moving  toward  them.  Gradually  under 
their  eager  eyes  the  dot  grew  into  a  man  who  staggered 
as  he  walked.  When  he  observed  the  horesemen  coming 
toward  him  he  sat  down  and  waited. 

"Jim  Provenso!  By  the  limping  Piper!"  cried  Billy. 
"Thought  you  was  in  Silver  City." 


TOUCH  AND  GO  139 

Jim  was  beyond  useless  speech.  He  caught  the  canteen 
which  Jack  swung  to  him  and  drank  deeply.  Then  he 
said  hoarsely: 

"I  almost  got  away  with  the  Tuttle  girl  last  week!" 

Every  man  left  his  saddle  as  if  at  a  word  of  command* 
Jim  took  another  drink. 

"If  I  catch  that  Injun  alone  I'll  cut  his  throat!" 

"Was  Miss  Tuttle  bad  off?"  gasped  Porter. 

"  She?  Naw;  she  looked  fine.  He  sassed  me,  though, 
as  I  won't  take  it  from  any  man!" 

"Tell  us  what  happened,  for  heaven's  sake,"  cried 
DeWitt,  eying  Provenso  disgustedly. 

Jim  told  his  story  in  detail. 

"That  Injun  Alkus,"  he  ended,  "he  tied  a  rag  over 
my  eyes,  tied  my  hands  up  and,  say,  he  lost  me  for  fair! 
He  took  all  day  to  it.  At  night  he  tied  me  up  to  a  tree 
and  I  stood  there  all  night  before  I  got  my  hands  loose. 
I  was  sure  lost,  now,  I  can  tell  you!  I  struck  a  cowman 
up  on  the  range  the  next  night.  He  give  me  some  grub 
and  a  canteen  and  I  made  out  pretty  good  till  yesterday, 
working  south  all  the  time.  Then  I  got  crazy  with 
thirst  and  threw  my  canteen  away.  Found  a  spring  last 
night  again,  but  I'm  about  all  in." 

"How  did  Miss  Tuttle  seem?"  asked  John  with 
curious  quietness.  It  seemed  to  him  the  strangest  thing 
of  all  that  first  the  Mexican,  then  this  coarse,  tramp-like 


140  THE  HEART  OF  THE  DESERT 

fellow,  should  have  talked  to  Rhoda  while  he  could  only 
wander  wildly  through  the  Hades  of  the  desert  without 
a  trace  of  her  camp  to  solace  him. 

"Say,  she  was  looking  good!  She  thanked  me  and 
told  me  to  tell  you  all  to  hurry." 

They  gave  to  Provenso  a  burro  whose  pack  was  nearly 
empty,  what  food  and  water  they  could  spare,  and  he 
left  them.  They  started  on  dejectedly.  Provenso  had 
told  them  where  Kut-le  had  camped  ten  days  before. 
They  could  only  find  that  spot  and  attempt  to  pick  up  the 
trail  from  there. 

"Just  the  same,"  said  Billy,  "it's  just  as  well  he  didn't 
get  away  with  Miss  Rhoda.  He's  a  tough  pill,  that 
Provenso.     She'd  better  be  with  the  Injun  than  him!" 

"Provenso  must  be  a  bad  lot,"  said  Jack. 

"He  is!"  replied  Billy  grimly. 

The  camp  was  made  that  night  near  a  smooth-faced 
mesa.  Before  dawn  they  had  eaten  breakfast  and  were 
mounting,  when  Carlos  gave  a  low  whistle.  Every  ear 
was  strained.  On  the  exquisite  stillness  of  the  dawn 
sounded  a  woman's  voice  which  a  man's  voice  answered. 


CHAPTER  X 


A  LONG   TRAIL 


"DHODA  gave  a  cry  of  joy.  From  the  horsemen  rose 
a  sudden  shout. 

"  Spread !     Spread !     There  they  are ! " 

"Don't  shoot!"  It  was  Porter's  voice,  shrill  and  high 
with  excitement.  "That's  her,  the  boy  there!  Rhoda! 
Rhoda!     We're  coming!" 

With  a  quick  responsive  cry,  Rhoda  struck  her  horse. 
With  the  blow,  Kut-le  leaned  from  his  own  horse  and 
seized  her  bridle,  turning  her  horse  with  his  own  away 
from  the  mesa  and  to  the  left.  The  other  Indians 
followed  and  with  hoarse  cries  of  exultation  the  rescuers 
took  up  the  pursuit. 

Rhoda  looked  back. 

"Shoot!"  she  screamed.     "Shoot!" 

Before  the  second  scream  had  left  her  lips  she  was 
lifted  bodily  from  the  saddle  to  Kut-le's  arms  where, 
understanding  his  device,  she  struggled  like  a  mad  woman. 
But  she  only  wasted  her  strength.  Without  a  glance 
at  her,  Kut-le  turned  his  pony  almost  in  its  tracks  and 
made  for  the  mesa. 

"Cut  him  off!    He'll  get  away  from  us!"    It  was 

141 


142  THE  HEART  OF  THE  DESERT 

DeWitt's  voice,  and  "John!  John  DeWitt!"  Rhoda 
cried. 

But  the  young  Indian  had  gaged  his  distance  well. 
He  brought  his  horse  to  its  haunches  and  with  Rhoda  in 
his  arms  was  running  into  a  fissure  seemingly  too  narrow 
for  human  to  enter,  while  the  pursuers  were  still 
a  hundred  yards  away. 

*'Hold  'em,  Alchisel"  he  said  briefly  as  he  ran. 

Alchise,  with  rifle  cocked,  stopped  by  the  opening. 
The  fissure  widened  immediately  into  a  narrow  passage- 
way. High,  high  above  them  rolled  a  strip  of  pink  and 
blue  morning  sky.  Before  them  was  a  seemingly  inter- 
minable crevice  along  which  the  squaws  scuttled.  As 
Rhoda  watched  them  they  disappeared  around  a  sudden 
curve.  When  Kut-le  reached  this  point  with  his  burden, 
the  squaws  were  climbing  like  monkeys  up  the  wall 
which  here  gave  back,  roughly,  ending  the  fissure  in  a 
rude  chimney  which  it  seemed  to  Rhoda  only  a  bear  or 
an  Apache  could  have  climbed.  Kut-le  set  Rhoda  on 
her  feet.  She  looked  up  into  his  face  mockingly.  To 
her  mind  she  was  as  good  as  rescued.  But  the  young 
Apache  seemed  in  no  wise  hurried  or  excited. 

"Our  old  friends  seem  to  want  something! '^  he  com- 
mented with  his  boyish  grin. 

"What  are  you  going  to  do  now?"  asked  Rhoda,  with 
calm  equal  to  the  Apache's. 


A  LONG  TRAIL  143 

"I  can't  carry  you  up  this  wall,"  suggested  Kut-le. 

"Very  well!"  returned  Rhoda  pleasantly.  "I  am 
quite  willing  that  you  should  leave  me  here." 

Kut-le's  eyes  glittered. 

"Rhoda,  you  must  climb  this  wall  with  me!" 

"I  won't!"  replied  Rhoda  laconically. 

"Then  I  shall  force  you  to,"  said  the  Indian,  shifting  his 
rifle  and  prodding  Rhoda  ever  so  gently  with  the  barrel. 

Rhoda  gave  Kut-le  a  look  of  scorn  that  he  was  not  soon 
to  forget  and  slowly  mounted  the  first  broken  ledge.  The 
wall  was  composed  of  a  series  of  jutting  rocks  and  of 
ledges  that  barely  offered  hand  or  foot  hold.  Up  and  up 
and  up!  Kut-le  was  now  beside  her,  now  above  her, 
now  lifting,  now  pulling.  Half-way  to  the  top,  Rhoda 
stopped,  dizzy  and  afraid.  Kneeling  on  the  ledge  above, 
with  one  hand  ttirust  down  to  lift  her,  Kut-le  looked  into 
her  eyes  almost  pleadingly.  That  handsome  face  so 
close  to  hers  affected  Rhoda  strangely. 

"Don't  be  afraid,"  whispered  Kut-le.  "Nothing  can 
happen  to  you  while  I  am  taking  care  of  you." 

Rhoda  looked  into  his  eyes  proudly. 

"I  am  not  afraid,"  she  said,  reaching  for  a  fresh 
handhold  with  trembling  fingers. 

The  jutting  rocks  were  sharp.  Kut-le  from  his  ledge 
saw  Rhoda  look  at  her  hold  then  turn  white.  Her  nails 
were  torn  to  the  quick  and  bleeding.     She  swayed  with 


144  THE  HEART  OF  THE  DESERT 

only  an  atom  of  gravity  lacking  to  send  her  to  death 
below.  Instantly  Kut-le  was  back  beside  her,  his 
sinewy  hand  between  her  shoulders,  supporting  and 
lifting  her  to  the  ledge  above.  As  they  neared  the  top 
the  broken  surface  became  prickly  with  cactus  and 
Rhoda  winced  with  misery  as  the  thorns  pierced  and 
tore  her  flesh.  But  finally,  in  what  actually  had  been  an 
incredibly  short  time,  they  emerged  on  the  plateau, 
where  the  two  squaws  huddled  high  above  the  pursuers. 

"They  think  they  have  you  now!"  said  Kut-le,  as 
Rhoda  dropped  panting  to  the  ground.  "  We  must  move 
out  of  here  before  they  investigate  the  mesa  top." 

He  allowed,  however,  a  few  minutes'  breathing  spell 
for  Rhoda.  She  sat  quietly,  though  her  gray  eyes  were 
brilliant  with  excitement.  It  seemed  to  her  but  a  matter 
of  a  few  hours  now  when  she  would  be  with  her  own. 
Yet  she  could  not  but  notice  with  that  curious  observance 
of  detail  which  comes  at  moments  of  intensest  excitement 
the  varied  colors  of  the  distances  that  opened  before  her. 
The  great  mesa  on  which  she  sat  was  a  mighty  peninsula 
of  chalcedony  that  stretched  into  the  desert.  It  was 
patched  by  rocks  of  lavender,  of  yellow,  and  of  green, 
and  belled  over  by  the  intensity  of  the  morning  blue 
above. 

"Come!"  said  Kut-le.  "There  will  be  little  rest  for 
us  today." 


A  LONG  TRAIL  145 

Rhoda  rose,  took  a  few  staggering  steps,  then  sat  down. 

"I  can't  start  yet,"  she  said.     "I'm  too  worn  out." 

Kut-le's  expression  was  amused  while  it  was  impatient. 

"I  suppose  you  may  be  sleepy,  but  I  think  you  can 
walk  a  little  way.    Hurry,  Rhoda!    Hurry!" 

Rhoda  sat  staring  calmly  into  the  palpitating  blue 
above. 

"I  hate  to  have  you  carry  me,"  she  said  after  a  moment, 
"but  I  don't  feel  at  all  like  walking!'* 

Her  tired  face  was  irresistibly  lovely  as  she  looked  up 
at  the  Apache,  but  by  an  effort  he  remained  obdurate. 

"You  must  walk  as  long  as  you  can,"  he  insisted. 
"We  have  got  to  husde  today!" 

"I  really  don't  feel  like  hustling!"  sighed  Rhoda. 

"Rhoda!"  cried  Kut-le  impatiently,  "get  up  and  walk 
after  me!  Cesca,  see  that  the  white  squaw  keeps 
moving!"  and  he  handed  his  rifle  to  the  brown  hag  who 
took  it  with  evident  pleasure.  Molly  ran  forward  as  if 
to  protest  but  at  a  look  from  Kut-le  she  dropped  back. 

Rhoda  rose  slowly,  with  her  lower  lip  caught  between 
her  teeth.  She  followed  silently  after  Kut-le,  Cesca  and 
the  rifle  at  her  shoulder  and  Molly  in  the  rear.  It 
seemed  to  the  girl  that  of  all  the  strange  scenes  through 
which  the  past  weeks  had  carried  her  this  was  of  all  the 
most  unreal.  All  about  her  was  a  world  of  vivid  rock 
heaps  so  intensely  colored  that  she  doubted  her  vision. 

10 


146  THE  HEART  OF  THE  DESERT 

Away  to  the  south  lay  the  boundless  floor  of  the  desert,  a 
purple  and  gold  infinity  that  rolled  into  the  horizon. 
Far  to  the  north  mountains  were  faintly  blue  in  the 
yellow  sunlight. 

Kut-le  headed  straight  for  the  mountains.  His  pace 
was  swift  and  unrelenting.  Almost  immediately  Rhoda 
felt  the  debilitating  effects  of  overheat.  The  sun,  now 
sailing  high,  burned  through  her  flannel  shirt  until  her 
flesh  was  blistered  beneath  it.  The  light  on  the  bril- 
liantly colored  rocks  made  her  eyes  blink  with  pain. 
Before  long  she  was  parched  with  thirst  and  faint  with 
hunger.  This  was  her  first  experience  in  tramping  for  any 
distance  under  the  desert  sun.  But  Kut-le  kept  the 
pace  long  after  the  two  squaws  were  half  leading,  half 
carrying  the  girl. 

Rhoda  had  long  since  learned  the  uselessness  of  pro- 
testing. She  kept  on  until  the  way  danced  in  reeling 
colors  before  her  eyes.  Then  without  a  sound  she 
dropped  in  the  scant  shadow  of  a  rock.  At  the  cry  from 
Molly,  Kut-le  turned,  and  after  one  glance  at  Rhoda^s 
white  face  and  limp  figure  he  knelt  in  the  sand  and 
lifted  the  drooping,  yellow  head.  Molly  unslung  her 
canteen  and  forced  a  few  drops  of  water  between  Rhoda^s 
lips.  Then  she  tenderly  chafed  the  small  hands  and  the 
delicate  throat  and  Rhoda  opened  her  eyes.  Immediately 
Kut-le  lifted  her  in  his  arms  and  the  flight  was  resumed. 


A  LONG  TRAIL  147 

At  short  intervals  during  the  morning,  Rhoda  walked, 
but  for  the  most  part  Kut-le  packed  her  as  dispassionately 
as  if  she  had  been  a  lame  puppy.  He  held  her  across  his 
broad  chest  as  if  her  fragile  weight  were  nothing.  Lying 
so,  Rhoda  watched  the  merciless  landscape  or  the  brown 
squaws  jogging  at  Kut-le's  heels.  Surely,  she  thought, 
the  ancient  mesa  never  had  seen  a  stranger  procession  or 
known  of  a  wilder  mission.  She  looked  up  into  Kut-le*s 
face  and  wondered  as  she  stared  at  his  bare  head  how 
his  eyes  could  look  so  steadily  into  the  sun-drenched 
landscape. 

As  she  lay,  the  elation  of  the  early  morning  left  her. 
More  and  more  surely  the  conviction  came  to  her  that 
the  Apache's  boast  was  true;  that  no  white  could  catch 
him  on  his  own  ground.  Dizzy  and  ill  from  the  heat,  she 
closed  her  eyes  and  lay  without  hope  or  coherent  thought. 

At  noon  they  stopped  for  a  short  time  that  Rhoda 
might  eat.  Their  resting-place  was  in  the  shadow  of  a 
beetling,  weather-beaten  rock  that  still  bore  traces  of 
hieroglyphic  carvings.  There  were  broken  bits  of  clay 
pots  among  the  tufts  of  cactus.  Rhoda  stared  at  them 
languidly  and  wondered  what  the  forgotten  vessels  could 
have  contained  in  a  region  so  barren  of  life  or  hope. 

Kut-le  strolled  over  to  a  cat's-claw  bush  at  whose  base 
lay  a  tangle  of  dead  leaves.  With  a  bit  of  stick,  he 
scattered  this  litter,  struck  the  ground  several  good  blows 


148  THE  HEART  OF  THE  DESERT 

and  returned  with  a  string  of  fat  desert  mice.  With 
infinite  care  Cesca  kindled  a  fire  so  tiny,  so  clear,  that 
scarcely  a  wisp  of  smoke  escaped  into  the  quivering  air. 
Into  this  she  flung  the  eviscerated  mice  and  in  an  instant 
the  tiny  things  were  a  delicate  brown.  The  aroma  was 
pleasant  but  Rhoda  turned  whiter  still  when  Molly 
brought  her  the  fattest  of  the  mice. 

"Take  it  away!"  she  whispered.    "Take  it  away!" 

Molly  looked  at  the  girl  in  stupid  surprise. 

"You  must  eat,  Rhoda  girl!"  said  Kut-le. 

Rhoda  made  no  reply  but  leaned  limply  against  the 
ancient  rock,  her  golden  hair  touching  the  crude  drawings 
of  long  ago.  She  was  a  very  different  Rhoda  from  the 
eager  girl  of  the  early  morning.  She  ignored  every 
effort  Kut-le  made  to  tempt  her  to  eat.  Her  tired  gaze 
wandered  to  her  hands,  still  blood-grimed,  and  her  cleft 
chin  quivered.     Kut-le  saw  the  expressive  little  look. 

"I'm  sorry,"  he  said  simply. 

Rhoda  looked  up  at  him. 

"I  don't  believe  you,"  she  returned  calmly. 

The  Indian's  jaw  stiffened. 

"Come,  we'll  start  now." 

The  afternoon  was  like  the  morning,  except  that  the 
sun  was  more  burning  overhead,  the  way  more  scorching 
underfoot;  except  that  the  course  became  more  broken, 
the  clambering  heavier,  the  drops  more  wracking.    All 


A  LONG  TRAIL  149 

the  afternoon,  Kut-le  carried  Rhoda.  At  last  the  sua 
sank  below  the  mesa  and  the  day  was  ended. 

The  place  of  their  camping  seemed  to  Rhoda  damp  and 
cold.  It  was  close  beside  a  spring  that  gave  out  a  faint, 
miasmic  odor.  The  bitter  water  was  grateful,  however. 
Again  more  mice  were  seered  over  before  the  fire  was 
stamped  out  hastily.  This  time  Rhoda  forced  herself  to 
eat.  Then  she  drank  deeply  of  the  bitter  water  and  lay 
down  on  the  cold  ground.  Despite  the  fact  that  she 
was  shivering  with  the  cold,  she  fell  asleep  at  once. 
Toward  midnight  she  awoke  and  moving  close  to  Molly^s 
broad  back  for  warmth,  she  looked  up  into  the  sky. 
For  the  first  time  the  great  southern  stars  seemed  near 
and  kindly  to  her  and  before  she  fell  asleep  again  she 
wondered  why. 

At  earliest  peep  of  dawn  the  squaws  were  astir 
waiting  for  Kut-le,  who  shortly  staggered  into  camp  with 
a  load  of  meat  on  his  shoulder.     Alchise  was  with  him. 

"Mule  meat!"  said  Kut-le  to  Rhoda.  "I  went  to 
find  horses  but  there  was  nothing  but  an  old  lame  mule. 
I  brought  him  back  this  way!" 

"Heavens!"  ejaculated  Rhoda. 

The  squaws  worked  busily,  cutting  the  meat  into  strips 
which  they  hung  over  their  shoulders  to  sun  dry  during  the 
day.  Alchise  cleansed  a  length  of  mule's  intestine  in  the 
spring,  to  serve  as  a  canteen.     Rhoda  gave  small  heed 


150  THE  HEART  OF  THE  DESERT 

to  these  preparations.  She  was  too  ill  and  feverish  even 
to  be  disgusted  by  them.  She  refused  to  eat  but  drank 
constantly  from  the  spring.  When  at  Kut-le's  command 
she  took  up  the  march  with  the  others  the  young  man 
eyed  her  anxiously.  He  slung  Molly's  canteen  from  his 
own  to  Alchise's  shoulder  and  felt  Rhoda's  pulse. 

"This  water  was  bad  for  you,"  he  said.  "But  it  was 
the  only  spring  within  miles.  Perhaps  you  will  throw 
off  the  effects  of  it  when  we  get  into  the  heat  of  the  sun." 

Rhoda  made  no  reply  but  staggered  miserably  after 
Molly.  The  spring  lay  in  a  pocket  between  mountains 
and  mesa.  The  mountains  seemed  cruelly  high  to 
Rhoda  as  she  looked  at  them  and  thought  of  toiling  across 
them.  With  head  sunk  on  her  breast  and  feverishly 
twitching  hands  she  followed  for  half  an  hour.  Then 
Kut-le  turned. 

"  I'm  going  to  carry  you,  Rhoda,"  he  said. 

The  girl  shrank  away  from  him. 

"You  and  Molly  and  all  of  them  think  I'm  just  a 
parasite,"  she  muttered.  "You  don't  have  to  do  any- 
thing for  me!    Just  let  me  drop  anywhere  and  die!" 

Kut-le  looked  at  her  strangely.  Without  comment,  he 
picked  her  up.  There  was  a  sternly  tender  look  on  his 
face  that  never  had  been  there  before.  He  did  not  carry 
her  dispassionately  today,  but  very  gently.  Something 
in  his  manner  pierced  through  Rhoda's  half  delirium  and 


A  LONG  TRAIL  151 

she  looked  up  at  him  with  a  faint  replica  of  her  old 
lovely  smile  that  Kut-le  had  not  seen  since  he  had  stolea 
her.  He  trembled  at  its  beauty  and  started  forward  at 
a  tremendous  pace. 

"  I'll  get  you  to  good  water  by  noon,"  he  said. 

At  noon  they  were  well  up  in  the  mountains  by  a  clear 
spring  fringed  with  aspens.  Watercress  grew  below  it, 
and  high  above  it  were  pines  and  junipers.  It  was  a  spot 
of  surpassing  loveliness,  but  Rhoda,  tossing  and  panting, 
could  not  know  it.  Kut-le  laid  his  burden  on  the  ground 
and  Molly  drew  off  her  tattered  petticoat  to  lay  beneath 
the  feverish  head.  The  young  Apache  stood  looking  down 
at  the  little  figure,  so  graceful  in  its  boyish  abandonment 
of  gesture,  so  pitiful  in  its  broken  unconsciousness.  Molly 
bathed  the  burning  face  and  hands  in  the  pure  cold  water, 
muttering  tender  Apache  phrases.  Kut-le  constantly  in- 
terrupted her  to  change  the  girl's  position.  For  an  hour 
er  so  he  waited  for  the  fever  to  turn.  By  three  o'clock 
there  was  no  change  for  the  better  and  he  left  Rhoda's 
side  to  pace  back  and  forth  by  the  spring  in  anxious 
thought. 

At  last  he  came  to  a  conclusion  and  with  stern  set  face 
he  issued  a  few  short  orders  to  his  companions.  The  can- 
teens were  refilled.  Kut-le  lifted  Rhoda  and  the  trail  was 
taken  to  the  west.  Alchise  would  have  relieved  him  of 
his  burden,  willingly,  but  Kut-le  would  not  listen  to  it. 


152  THE  HEART  OF  THE  DESERT 

Molly  trotted  anxiously  by  the  young  Apache's  side,  con- 
stantly moistening  the  girl's  lips  with  water. 

Rhoda  was  quite  delirious  now.  She  murmured  and 
sometimes  sobbed,  trying  to  free  herself  from  Kut-le's 
arms. 

"I'm  not  sick!"  she  said,  looking  up  into  the  Indian's 
face  with  unseeing  eyes.  "Don't  let  him  see  that  I  am 
sick!" 

"No!  No!  Dear  one!"  answered  Kut-le. 

" Don't  let  him  see  I'm  sick! "  she  sobbed.  "He  hurts 
me  so!" 

"No!  No!"  exclaimed  Kut-le  huskily.  "Molly,  give 
her  a  little  more  water!" 

"Molly!"  panted  Rhoda,  "you  tell  him  how  hard  I 
worked — ^how  I  earned  my  way  a  little!  And  don't  let 
him  do  anything  for  me!" 


CHAPTER  XI 

THE  TURN  IN  THE  TRAIL 

npHE  little  group,  trudging  the  long  difficult  trail  along 
the  mountain  was  a  rich  study  in  degrees:  Rhoda, 
the  fragile  Caucasian,  a  product  of  centuries  of  civiliza- 
tion ;  and  Kut-le,  the  Indian,  with  the  keenness,  the  fero- 
cious courage,  the  cunniilg  of  the  Indian  leavened  inex- 
tricably with  the  thousand  softening  influences  of  a  score 
of  years'  contact  with  civilization;  then  Cesca,  the  lean 
and  stoical  product  of  an  ancient  and  terrible  savagery; 
and  Alchise,  her  mate.  Finally  Molly — squat,  dirty  Molly 
— the  stupid,  squalid  aborigine,  as  distinct  from  Cesca's 
type  as  is  the  brown  snail  from  the  stinging  wasp. 

Alchise,  striding  after  his  chief,  was  smitten  with  a  sud- 
den idea.  After  ruminating  on  it  for  some  time,  he  com- 
municated it  to  his  squaw.  Cesca  shook  her  head  with  a 
grunt  of  disapproval.  Alchise  insisted  and  the  squaw 
looked  at  Kut-le  cunningly. 

"Quien  sabe?^^  she  said  at  last. 

At  this  Alchise  hurried  forward  and  touched  Kut-le  oa 
the  shoulder. 

''Take  'em  squaw  to  Reservation.    Medicine  dance. 

Squaw  heap  sick.    Sabe  ? ' ' 

153 


154  THE  HEART  OF  THE  DESERT 

"Reservation's  too  far  away/'  replied  Kut-le,  shifting 
Rhoda's  head  to  lie  more  easily  on  his  arm.  "  I'm  making 
for  Chira." 

Alchise  shook  his  head  vigorously. 

"Too  many  mens!  We  go  Reservation.  Alchise  help 
carry  sick  squaw." 

"Nope!  You're  way  off,  Alchise.  I'm  going  where  I 
can  get  some  white  man's  medicine  the  quickest.  I'm  not 
so  afraid  of  getting  caught  as  I  am  of  her  getting  a  bad  run 
of  fever.     I  have  friends  at  Chira." 

Alchise  fell  back,  muttering  disappointment.  White 
man's  medicine  was  no  good.  He  cared  little  about 
Rhoda  but  he  adored  Kut-le.  It  was  necessary  therefore 
that  the  white  squaw  be  saved,  since  his  chief  evidently 
was  quite  mad  about  her.  All  the  rest  of  the  day  Alchise 
was  very  thoughtful.  Late  at  night  the  next  halt  was 
made.  High  up  in  the  moimtain  on  a  sheltered  ledge 
Kut-le  laid  down  his  burden. 

"Keep  her  quiet  till  I  get  back,"  he  said,  and  disap- 
peared. 

Rhoda  was  in  a  stupor  and  lay  quietly  unconscious 
with  the  stars  blinking  down  on  her,  a  limp  dark  heap 
against  the  mountain  wall.  The  three  Indians  munched 
mule  meat,  then  Molly  curled  herself  on  the  ground  and 
in  three  minutes  was  snoring.  Alchise  stood  erect  and 
still  on  the  ledge  for  perhaps  ten  minutes  after  Kut-le's 


THE  TURN  IN  THE  TRAIL  155 

departure.  Then  he  touched  Cesca  on  the  shoulder, 
lifted  Rhoda  in  his  arms  and,  followed  by  Cesca,  left  the 
sleeping  Molly  alone  on  the  ledge. 

Swiftly,  silently,  Alchise  strode  up  the  mountainside, 
Rhoda  making  neither  sound  nor  motion.  For  hours, 
with  wonderful  endurance  the  two  Indians  held  the  pace. 
They  moved  up  the  mountain  to  the  summit,  which  they 
crossed,  then  dropped  rapidly  downward.  Just  at  dawn 
Alchise  stopped  at  a  gray  campos  under  some  pines  and 
called.  A  voice  from  the  hut  answered  him.  The 
canvas  flap  was  put  back  and  an  old  Indian  buck  ap- 
peared, followed  by  several  squaws  and  young  bucks, 
yawning  and  staring. 

Alchise  laid  Rhoda  on  the  ground  while  he  spoke 
rapidly  to  the  Indian.  The  old  man  protested  at  first  but 
on  the  repeated  use  of  Kut-le's  name  he  finally  nodded 
and  Alchise  carried  Rhoda  into  the  campos,  A  squaw 
kindled  a  fire  which,  blazing  up  brightly,  showed  a  huge, 
dark  room,  canvas-roofed  and  dirt-floored,  quite  bare 
except  for  the  soiled  blankets  on  the  floor. 

Rhoda  was  laid  in  the  center  of  the  hut.  The  old 
buck  knelt  beside  her.  He  was  very  old  indeed.  His 
time-ravaged  features  were  lean  and  ascetic.  His  clay^ 
matted  hair  was  streaked  with  white;  his  black  eyes  were 
deep-sunk  and  his  temples  were  hollow.  But  there  was 
a  fine  sort  of  dignity  about  the  old  medicine-man,  despite 


156  THE  HEART  OF  THE  DESERT 

his  squalor.  He  gazed  on  Rhoda  in  silence  for  some  time. 
Alchise  and  Cesca  sat  on  the  floor,  and  little  by  little 
they  were  joined  by  a  dozen  other  Indians  who  formed  a 
circle  about  the  girl.  The  firelight  flickered  on  the  dark, 
intent  faces  and  on  Rhoda 's  delicate  beauty  as  she  lay 
passing  rapidly  from  stupor  to  delirium. 

Suddenly  the  old  man  raised  his  lean  hand,  shaking  a 
gourd  filled  with  pebbles,  and  began  softly  to  chant. 
Instantly  the  other  Indians  joined  him  and  the  campos 
was  filled  with  the  rhythm  of  a  weird  song.  Rhoda 
tossed  her  arms  and  began  to  cough  a  little  from  the 
smoke.  The  chant  quickened.  It  was  but  the  mechan- 
ical repetition  of  two  notes  falling  always  from  high  to 
low.  Yet  it  had  an  indescribable  effect  of  melancholy, 
this  aboriginal  song.  It  was  as  hopeless  and  melancholy 
as  all  of  nature's  chants:  the  wail  of  the  wind,  the  sob 
of  the  rain,  the  beat  of  the  waves. 

Rhoda  sat  erect,  her  eyes  wild  and  wide.  The  old 
buck,  without  ceasing  his  song,  attempted  to  thrust  her 
back  with  one  lean  brown  claw,  but  Rhoda  struck  him 
feebly. 

"Go  away!'*  she  cried.  "Be  quiet!  You  hurt  my 
head!    Don't  make  that  dreadful  noise!" 

The  chant  quickened.  The  medicine-man  now  rocked 
back  and  forth  on  his  knees,  accenting  the  throb 
of  the  song  by  beating  his  bare  feet  on  the  earth.    He 


THE  TURN  IN  THE  TRAIL  157 

seemed  by  some  strange  suppleness  to  flatten  his  instep 
paddle- wise  and  to  bring  the  entire  leg  from  toe  to  knee 
at  one  blow  against  the  ground.  Never  did  his  glowing 
old  eyes  leave  Rhoda's  face. 

The  girl,  thrown  into  misery  and  excitement  by  the 
insistence  of  the  chant,  began  to  wring  her  hands.  The 
words  said  nothing  to  her  but  the  rhythmic  repetition 
of  the  notes  told  her  a  story  as  old  as  life  itself:  that  life 
passes  swifter  than  a  weaver's  shuttle,  and  without 
hope;  that  our  days  are  as  grass  and  as  the  clouds  that 
are  consumed  and  are  no  more;  that  the  soul  sinks  to  the 
land  of  darkness  and  of  the  shadow  of  death.  Rhoda 
struggled,  with  horror  in  her  eyes,  to  rise;  but  the  old 
man  with  a  hand  on  her  shoulder  forced  her  back  on  the 
blanket. 

'^ Oh,  what  is  it!"  wailed  Rhoda,  clutching  at  the  mass 
of  yellow-brown  hair  about  her  face.  "Where  am  I? 
What  are  you  doing?  Have  I  died?  Where  is  Kut-le ? 
Kut-le!''  she  screamed.     "Kut-le!" 

The  medicine-man  held  her  to  the  blanket  and  for  a 
time  she  sat  quiescent.  Then  as  the  Indian  lifted  his 
hand  from  her  shoulder  the  bewilderment  of  her  gray 
eyes  changed  to  the  wildness  of  delirium.  She  looked 
toward  the  doorway  where  the  dawn  light  made  but  little 
headway  against  the  dark  interior.  With  one  blue- 
veined  hand  on  her  panting  breast  she  slowly,  stealthily 


168  THE  HEART  OF  THE  DESERT 

gathered  herself  together,  and  with  unbelievable  swift- 
ness she  sprang  for  the  square  of  dawn  light.  She 
leaped  almost  into  the  arms  of  a  young  buck  who  sat 
near  the  door.  He  bore  her  back  to  her  place  while  the 
chant  continued  without  interruption. 

Exhausted,  Rhoda  lay  listening  to  the  song.  Grad- 
ually it  began  to  exert  its  hypnotic  influence  over  her.  Its 
sense  of  melancholy  enveloped  her  drug- like.  She  lay 
prone,  the  tears  coursing  down  her  cheeks,  her  twitching 
hands  turned  upward  beside  her.  Slowly  she  floated 
outward  upon  a  dark  sea  whose  waves  beat  a  ceaseless 
requiem  of  anguish  on  her  ears.  It  seemed  to  her  that 
she  was  enduring  all  the  sorrows  of  the  ages;  that  she  was 
brain-tortured  by  the  death  agonies  of  all  humanity; 
that  all  the  uselessness,  all  the  meaninglessness,  all  the 
utter  weariness  of  the  death-ridden  world  pressed  upon 
her,  suffocating  her,  forcing  her  to  stillness,  slowing  the 
beating  of  her  heart,  the  intake  of  her  breath.  Slowly 
her  white  lids  closed,  yet  with  one  last  conscious  cry  for 
life: 

"  Kut-le ! ''  she  wailed.     "  Kut-le !  ^' 

A  quick  shadow  filled  the  doorway. 

"Here,  Rhoda!    Here!'* 

Kut-le  bounded  into  the  room,  upsetting  the  medicine- 
man, and  lifted  Rhoda  in  his  arms.  She  clung  to  him 
wildly. 


THE  TURN  IN  THE  TRAIL  159 

"Take  me  away,  Kut-le!    Take  me  away!'* 

He  soothed  her  with  great  tenderness. 

"Dear  one!"  he  murmured.  "Dear  one!"  and  she 
closed  her  eyes  quietly. 

During  this  time  the  Indians  sat  silent  and  watchful. 
Kut-le  turned  to  Alchise. 

"You  cursed  fool!"  he  said. 

"She  get  well  now,"  replied  Alchise  anxiously.  "Al- 
chise save  her  for  you.    Molly  tell  you  where  come." 

For  a  moment  Kut-le  stared  at  Alchise;  then,  as  if 
realizing  the  futility  of  speech,  "Come!"  he  said,  and 
ignoring  the  other  Indians,  he  strode  from  the  campos, 
Alchise  and  Cesca  followed  him,  and  outside  the  anxious 
Molly  seized  Rhoda's  limp  hand  with  a  little  cry  of  joy. 
Kut-le  led  the  way  to  a  quiet  spot  among  the  pines.  Here 
he  laid  Rhoda  on  a  sheepskin  and  covered  her  with  a 
tattered  blanket,  the  spoils  of  his  previous  night's 
trip. 

About  the  middle  of  the  morning  Rhoda  opened  her 
eyes.    As  she  stirred,  Kut-le  came  to  her. 

"I've  had  such  horrible  dreams,  Kut-le.  You  won't 
go  and  leave  me  to  the  Indians  again?" 

This  appeal  from  Rhoda  in  her  weakness  almost 
overcame  Kut-le  but  he  only  smoothed  her  tangled  hair 
and  answered: 

"No,  dear  one!" 


160  THE  HEART  OF  THE  DESERT 

"Where  are  we  now?''  she  asked  feebly. 

Kut-Ie  smiled. 

"In  the  Rockies." 

"I  think  I  am  very  sick,"  continued  Rhoda.  "Do 
you  think  we  can  stay  quiet  in  one  place  today?" 

Kut-le  shook  his  head. 

"  I  am  going  to  get  you  to  some  quinine  as  quick  as  I 
can.    There  is  some  about  twenty-four  hours  from  here." 

Rhoda's  eyes  widened. 

"Shall  I  be  with  white  people?" 

"Don't  bother.    You'll  have  good  care." 

The  light  faded  from  Rhoda's  eyes. 

"It's  hard  for  me,  isn't  it?"  she  said,  as  if  appealing 
to  the  college  man  of  the  ranch. 

"Rhoda!  Rhoda!"  whispered  Kut-le,  "your  suffering 
kills  me!    But  I  must  have  you,  I  must!" 

Rhoda  moved  her  head  impatiently,  as  if  the  Indian's 
tense,  handsome  face  annoyed  her.  She  refused  food 
but  drank  deeply  of  the  tepid  water  and  shortly  they 
were  again  on  the  trail. 

For  several  hours  Rhoda  lay  in  Kut-le's  arms,  weak 
and  ill  but  with  lucid  mind.  They  were  making  their 
way  up  a  long  canon.  It  was  very  narrow.  Rhoda 
could  see  the  individual  leaves  of  the  aspens  on  the 
opposite  wall  as  they  moved  close  in  the  shadow  of  the 
other.     The  floor,  watered  by  a  clear  brook,  was  level 


THE  TURN  IN  THE  TRAIL  161 

and  green.  On  either  side  the  walls  were  murmurous 
with  delicately  quivering  aspens  and  sighing  pines. 

Suddenly  Cesca  gave  a  grunt  of  warning.  Far  down 
the  valley  a  sheep-herder  was  approaching  with  his 
flocks.  Kut-le  turned  to  the  right  and  Alchise  sprang 
to  his  aid.  In  the  shelter  of  the  trees,  Kut-le  twisted  a 
handkerchief  across  Rhoda's  mouth;  and  in  reply  to  her 
outraged  eyes,  he  said: 

"I  don't  mind  single  visitors  as  a  rule  but  I  haven't 
time  to  fuss  with  one  now." 

Together  the  two  men  carried  Rhoda  up  the  canon 
side.  They  lifted  her  from  trunk  to  trunk,  now  a  root- 
hold,  noiv  a  jutting  bit  of  rock,  till  far  up  the  sheer  wall 
Rhoda  lay  at  last  on  a  little  ledge  heaped  with  pine- 
needles.  By  the  time  the  Indians  were  settled  on  the 
rock  Rhoda  was  delirious  again.  The  fever  had  re- 
turned twofold  and  Molly's  entire  efforts  were  toward 
keeping  the  tossing  form  on  the  ledge. 

Slowly,  very  slowly,  the  herder,  a  sturdy  ragged 
Mexican,  moved  up  the  canon,  pausing  now  and  again 
to  scratch  his  head.  He  was  whistling  La  Paloma.  The 
Indians'  black  eyes  did  not  leave  him  and  after  his  flute- 
like notes  had  melted  into  the  distance  they  still  crouched 
in  cramped  stillness  on  the  ledge. 

But  shortly  Kut-le  freed  Rhoda's  mouth,  gave  Alchise 

a  swift  look,  and  with  infinite  care  the  descent  was  begun. 
11 


162  THE  HEART  OF  THE  DESERT 

Kut-Ie  did  not  like  traveling  in  the  daylight,  for  many 
reasons.  Carefully,  swiftly  they  moved  up  the  cation, 
always  hugging  the  wall.  Late  in  the  afternoon  they 
emerged  on  an  open  mesa.  All  the  wretched  day 
Rhoda  had  traveled  in  a  fearsome  world  of  her  own, 
peopled  with  uncanny  figures,  alight  with  a  glare  that 
seared  her  eyes,  held  in  a  vice  that  gripped  her  until  she 
screamed  with  restless  pain.  The  song  that  the  shepherd 
had  whistled  tortured  her  tired  brain. 

"  The  day  that  I  left  my  home  for  the  rolling  sea, 
I  said,  'Mother  dear,  O  pray  to  thy  God  for  me!* 
But  e'er  we  set  sail  I  went  a  fond  leave  to  take — " 

Over  and  over  she  sang  the  three  lines,  ending  each 
time  with  a  frightened  stare  up  into  Kut-le's  face. 

"Whom  did  I  say  good-by  to?  Whom?  But  they 
don't  care!" 

Then  again  the  tired  voice: 

"  The  day  that  I  left  my  home  for  the  rolling  sea — " 

Night  came  and  the  weary,  weary  crossing  of  a  craggy, 
heavily  wooded  mountain.  Kut-le  did  not  relinquish  his 
burden.  He  seemed  not  to  tire  of  the  weight  of  the 
slender  body  that  lay  now  in  helpless  stupor.  If  the 
squaws  or  Alchise  felt  fatigue  or  impatience  as  Kut-le 
held  them  to  a  pace  on  the  tortuous  trail  that  would 
early  have  exhausted  a  Caucasian  athlete,  they  gave 


THE  TURN  IN  THE  TRAIL  163 

no  sign.  All  the  endless  night  Kut-le  led  the  way  under 
the  midnight  blackness  of  the  pinon  or  the  violet  light 
of  the  stars,  until  the  lifting  light  of  the  dawn  found 
them  across  the  ranges  and  standing  at  the  edge  of  a 
litde  river. 

In  the  dim  light  there  lifted  a  terraced  adobe  building 
with  ladders  faintly  outlined  on  the  terraces.  There  was 
no  sound  save  the  barking  of  a  dog  and  the  ripple  of  the 
river.  With  a  muttered  admonition,  Kut-le  left  Rhoda  to 
the  others  and  climbed  one  of  the  ladders.  He  returned 
with  a  blanketed  figure  that  gazed  on  Rhoda  non-commit- 
tally.  At  a  sign,  Kut-le  lifted  Rhoda,  and  the  little  group 
moved  noiselessly  toward  the  dwelling,  clambered  up  a 
ladder,  and  disappeared. 

Rhoda  opened  her  eyes  with  a  sense  of  physical  comfort 
that  confused  her.  She  was  lying  on  the  floor  of  a  long, 
gray- walled  room.  In  one  comer  was  a  tiny  adobe  fire- 
place from  which  a  tinier  fire  threw  a  jet  of  flame  color 
on  the  Navajo  that  lay  before  the  hearth.  Along  the 
walls  were  benches  with  splendid  Navajos  rolled  cushion- 
wise  upon  them.  Above  the  benches  hung  several  rifles 
with  cougarskin  quivers  beneath  them.  A  couple  of 
cheap  framed  mirrors  were  hung  with  silver  necklaces 
of  beautiful  workmanship.  In  a  comer  a  table  was  set 
with  heavy  but  shining  china  dishes. 

Rhoda  stared  with  increasing  wonder.     She  was  very 


164  THE  HEART  OF  THE  DESERT 

weak  and  spent  but  her  head  was  clear.  She  lifted  hel 
arms  and  looked  at  them.  She  was  wearing  a  loose- 
fitting  gray  garment  of  a  strange  weave.  She  fingered 
it,  more  and  more  puzzled. 

"  You  wake  now  ?  "  asked  a  low  voice. 

Coming  softly  down  the  room  was  an  Indian  woman 
of  comely  face  and  strange  garb.  Over  a  soft  shirt  of 
cut  and  weave  such  as  Rhoda  had  on,  she  wore  a  dark 
overdress  caught  at  one  shoulder  and  reaching  only  to 
the  knees.  A  many-colored  girdle  confined  the  dress  at 
the  waist.  Her  legs  and  feet  were  covered  with  high, 
loose  moccasins.  Her  black  hair  hung  free  on  her 
shoulders. 

"You  been  much  sick,"  the  woman  went  on,  "much 
sick,"  stooping  to  straighten  Rhoda's  blanket. 

"  Where  am  I ?"  asked  Rhoda. 

"At  Chira.    You  eat  breaktast?" 

Rhoda  caught  the  woman's  hand. 

"Who  are  you?"  she  asked.  "You  have  been  very 
good  to  me." 

"Me  Marie,"  replied  the  woman. 

"Where  are  Kut-le  and  the  others?" 

"  Kut-le  here.  Others  in  mountain.  You  much  sick, 
three  days." 

Rhoda  sighed.  Would  this  kaleidoscope  of  misery 
never  end! 


THE  TURN  IN  THE  TRAIL  165 

"I  ^.m  very  tired  of  it  all,"  she  said.  " I  think  it  would 
have  been  kinder  if  you  had  let  me  die.  Will  you  help 
me  to  get  back  to  my  white  friends?" 

Marie  shook  her  head. 

"  Kut-le  friend.     We  take  care  Kut-le's  squaw.". 

Rhoda  turned  wearily  on  her  side. 

"Go  away  and  let  me  sleep,"  she  said. 


CHAPTER  XII 

THE    CROSSING   TRAILS 

A  S  Kut-le,  with  Rhoda  in  his  arms,  disappeared  into 
"^^  the  mesa  fissure,  John  DeWitt  threw  himself  from 
his  horse  and  was  at  the  opening  before  the  others  had 
more  than  brought  their  horses  to  their  haunches. 

He  was  met  by  Alchise^s  rifle,  with  Alchise  entirely 
hidden  from  view.  For  a  moment  the  four  men  stood 
panting  and  speechless.  The  encounter  had  been  so 
sudden,  so  swift  that  they  could  not  believe  their  senses. 
Then  Billy  Porter  uttered  an  oath  that  reverberated  from 
the  rocky  wall. 

"They  will  get  to  the  top!'*  he  cried.  "Jack,  you  and 
DeWitt  get  up  there!     Carlos  and  I  will  hold  this!" 

The  two  men  mounted  immediately  and    galloped 

along  the  mesa  wall,  looking  for  an  ascent.    Neither  of 

them  spoke  but  both  were  breathing  hard,  and  through 

his  blistered  skin  DeWitt's  cheeks  glowed  feverishly.     For 

a  mile  up  and  down  from  the  fissure  the  wall  was  a 

blank,  except  for  a  single  wide  split  which  did  not  come 

within  fifty  feet  of  the  ground.    After  over  half  an  hour 

of  frantic  search,  DeWitt  found,  nearly  three  miles  from 

the  fissure,  a  rough  spot  where  the  wall  gave  back  in  a  few 

narrow  crumbling  ledges. 

167 


168  THE  HEART  OF  THE  DESERT 

"We'll  have  to  leave  the  horses,"  he  said,  "and  try 
that." 

Jack  nodded  tensely.  They  dismounted,  pulled  the 
reins  over  the  horses'  heads  and  started  up  the  wall, 
john  leading,  carefully.  One  bitter  lesson  the  desert 
was  teaching  him:  haste  in  the  hot  country  spells  ruin! 
So,  though  Rhoda's  voice  still  rang  in  his  ears,  though 
the  sight  of  the  slender  boyish  figure  struggling  in  Kut-le's 
arms  still  ravished  his  eyes,  he  worked  carefully. 

The  ascent  was  all  but  impossible.  The  few  jutting 
ledges  were  so  narrow  that  foothold  was  precarious,  so 
far  apart  that  only  the  slight  backward  slant  of  the 
wall  made  it  possible  for  them  to  flatten  their  bodies 
against  the  crumbling  brown  rock  and  thus  keep  from 
falling.  They  toiled  desperately,  silently.  After  an 
hour  of  utmost  effort,  they  reached  the  top,  and  with  an 
exclamation  of  exultation  started  in  the  direction  of  the  fis- 
sure. But  their  exultation  was  short-lived.  The  great  split 
that  stopped  fifty  feet  from  the  desert  floor  cut  them  off 
from  the  main  mesa.  They  ran  hastily  along  its  edge 
but  at  no  point  was  it  to  be  crossed.  Shortly  DeWitt 
left  Jack  to  follow  it  back  and  he  hastened  to  the  mesa 
front  where  he  made  a  perilous  descent  and  returned 
with  the  horses  to  Porter. 

That  gentleman  forced  John  to  eat  some  breakfast 
while  Carlos  rode  hastily  to  scour  the  mesa  front  to  the 


THE  CROSSING  TRAILS  169 

west.  Porter  and  the  Mexican  had  captured  two  of  the 
horses  and  the  burro  that  the  Indians  had  left.  The 
other  horses  had  run  out  into  the  desert  back  to  the  last 
spring  they  had  camped  at,  Porter  said.  To  DeWitt's 
great  disappointment,  the  horses  carried  only  blankets, 
and  the  burro  was  loaded  with  bacon  and  flour.  There 
were  none  of  Rhoda's  personal  belongings.  The  animals 
were  in  good  condition,  however,  and  the  men  annexed 
them  to  their  outfit  gladly. 

John  was  torn  betwixt  hope  and  bitter  disappointment. 

"Do  you  think  they  could  climb  out  of  the  fissure  ?"  he 
asked  half  a  dozen  times,  then  without  waiting  for  an 
answer,  "Did  you  see  her  face,  Billy?  I  had  just  a 
glimpse!  Didn't  she  look  well!  Just  that  one  glance 
has  put  new  life  in  me!  I  know  we  will  get  her!  Even 
this  cursed  desert  isn't  wide  enough  to  keep  me  from  her! 
God  help  that  Indian  when  I  get  him!" 

Porter  kept  his  eyes  on  Alchise's  rifle  which  had  never 
wavered  in  the  past  three  hours. 

"I've  a  notion  to  shoot  the  barrel  off  that  thing  just 
for  luck!"  he  growled.  "John,  sit  down!  You  will 
need  all  the  strength  you've  got  and  then  some  before 
you  catch  that  Injun!" 

"What  are  you  going  to  do?"  asked  John,  seating 
himself  in  the  sand  some  few  feet  from  the  fissure. 

"The  big  probability  is, "  said  Billy,  "that  they  are  in 


170  THE  HEART  OF  THE  DESERT 

the  crack.  It  would  be  just  about  impossible  for  a  girl 
to  climb  out  of  one  of  'em.  If  they  have  got  out,  though, 
it's  just  a  matter  of  finding  their  trail  again.  We'll  have 
'em !  It's  just  this  chance  crack  that  saved  'em.  If  you're 
rested,  ride  along  the  west  wall  and  try  for  the  top  again. " 

For  the  next  five  hours,  Porter  guarded  the  mesa  front 
alone.  It  was  nearing  six  o'clock  when  Jack  returned, 
exhausted  and  disappointed.  He  had  followed  the  great 
split  back  until  the  mesa  top  became  so  cut  and  striated 
with  mighty  fissures  that  progress  was  impossible. 

*' Isn't  it  the  devil's  own  luck,"  he  growled  to  Porter 
as  he  ate,  "that  we  should  have  let  him  get  into  that 
one  crack!  What  next!  Unless  they  are  still  in  there, 
we've  lost  them  and  are  just  losing  time  squatting  here. " 

As  he  spoke,  there  was  a  sound  of  voices  in  the  fissure. 
The  two  men  cocked  their  rifles  as  John  and  Carlos 
emerged  from  the  opening.  John  was  scowling  and 
breathless. 

"Lost  'em  as  usual,  by  our  infernal  stupidity, "  he 
panted,  while  Carlos  dropped  his  empty  canteen  and  lifted 
Porter's  to  his  lips.  "I  rode  round  to  the  south  of  the 
mesa.  There  are  a  couple  of  possible  ascents  there.  I 
found  Carlos  making  one.  We  followed  a  dozen  fis- 
sures before  we  located  this  one.  We  got  into  it  about  a 
mile  back  from  here.  Here's  a  basket  we  found  at  the 
bottom  in  a  burlap  bag." 


THE  CROSSING  TRAILS  171 

He  tossed  one  of  Cesca's  pitch  baskets  at  Billy,  then 
threw  himself  in  the  sand. 

''They  were  down  off  the  mesa,  I  bet,"  he  went  on, 
"before  we  fools  found  the  way  up,  and  it  was  easy  for 
the  chap  they  left  guarding  the  entrance  to  avoid  us.  The 
mesa  is  covered  with  big  rocks." 

"He  got  away  within  the  last  half -hour  then,"  said 
Billy,  "for  I  didn't  stir  from  this  spot  until  the  burro 
started  to  eat  the  grub  pack,  and  I  naturally  had  to 
wrestle  with  him.  And  no  human  being  could  a  got  out 
the  front  even  then." 

"God!  What  a  country!"  groaned  DeWitt.  "The 
Indians  outwit  us  at  every  step!" 

"Well,"  Jack  answered  dejectedly,  "tell  us  what  we 
could  have  done  differently." 

"I'm  not  blaming  any  one,"  replied  John. 

Billy  Porter  rose  briskly. 

"You  boys  quit  your  kicking.  The  scent  is  stilj 
warm.  You  fellows  get  a  couple  of  hours'  sleep  while 
I  take  the  horses  back  to  Coyote  Hole  for  water.  By 
daylight  we  got  to  be  on  the  south  side  of  the  mesa  to 
pick  up  the  trail." 

Billy's  businesslike  manner  heartened  Jack  and  John 
DeWitt.  They  turned  in  beside  Carlos,  who  already 
was  sleeping. 

Dawn  found  them  examining  the  ascents  cm  the  south 


172  THE  HEART  OF  THE  DESERT 

side  of  the  mesa  but  they  found  no  traces  and  as  the  sun 
came  well  up  they  followed  the  only  possible  way  toward 
the  mountains.  At  noon  they  found  a  low  spring  in  a 
pocket  between  mesa  and  mountain.  Kut-le  was  growing 
either  defiant  or  careless,  for  he  had  left  a  heap  of  ashes 
and  a  pile  of  half -eaten  desert  mice.  Very  much  cheered 
they  allowed  the  horses  a  fair  rest.  They  found  no 
further  traces  of  camp  or  trail  that  day  and  made  camp 
that  night  in  the  open  desert. 

At  dawn  they  were  crossing  a  heavily  wooded  mountain. 
The  sun  had  not  yet  risen  when  they  heard  a  sound  of 
singing. 

"What's  that?"  asked  DeWitt  sharply,  as  the  four 
pulled  up  their  horses. 

"A  medicine  cry,"  answered  Jack.  "We  must  be 
near  some  medicine-man's  Campos^ 

"Come  on,"  cried  DeWitt,  "we'll  quiz  them!" 

"Hold  up,  you  chump!"  exclaimed  Billy.  "If  you 
rush  in  on  a  cry  that  way  you  are  apt  not  to  come  back 
again.  You've  got  to  go  at  'em  careful.  Let  me  do  the 
talking." 

They  rode  toward  the  soimd  of  the  chant  and  shortly  a 
dingy  campos  came  into  view.  An  Indian  buck  made  his 
way  from  the  doorway  toward  them. 

"Who  is  sick,  friend?"  asked  Billy. 

"  Old  buck,"  said  the  Indian. 


THE  CROSSING  TRAILS  178 

"Apache?"  said  Billy. 

The  Indian  nodded.  < 

"You  sabe  Apache  named  Kut-le?" 

The  buck  shook  his  head,  but  Billy  went  on  patiently. 

"Yes,  you  sabe  him.  He  old  Ke-say'sson.  Apache 
chief's  son.  He  run  off  with  white  squaw.  We  want 
squaw,  we  no  hurt  him.  Squaw  sick,  no  good  for 
Injun.  You  tell,  have  money."  Billy  displayed  a 
silver  dollar. 

The  Indian  brightened. 

"  Long  time  'go,  some  Injun  say  he  sabe  Kut-le.  Some 
Injun  say  he  all  same  white  man.  Some  Injun  say  he 
heap  smart."  He  looked  at  Billy  inquiringly,  and 
Billy  nodded  approval.  DeWitt  swallowed  nervously. 
"Come  two,  three  day  'go,"  the  buck  went  on,  his  eyes 
on  the  silver  dollar,  "big  Injun,  carry  white  squaw,  go 
by  here  very  fast.  He  go  that  way  all  heap  fast,"  The 
buck  pointed  south. 

"Did  he  speak  to  you?  What  did  he  say?"  cried 
DeWitt. 

But  the  Indian  lapsed  into  silence  and  refused  to  speak 
more.  Porter  felt  well  rewarded  for  his  efforts  and 
tossed  the  dollar  to  the  Indian. 

"Gee!"  said  Billy,  as  they  started  elated  down  the 
mountain.  "I  wish  we  could  overtake  him  before  he 
outfits  again.    That  poverty-stricken  lot  couldn't  have 


174  THE  HEART  OF  THE  DESE^EIT 

had  any  horses  here  for  him  to  use.  I'll  bet  he  makes 
for  the  nearest  ranch  where  he  could  steal  a  good  bunch. 
That  would  be  at  Kelly's,  sixty  miles  south  of  here. 
We'll  hike  for  Kelly's!" 

This  idea  did  not  meet  with  enthusiastic  approval  from 
the  other  three  but  as  no  one  had  a  better  suggestion  to 
make,  the  trail  to  Kelly's  was  taken.  It  seemed  to  John 
Dewitt  that  Billy  relied  little  on  science  and  much  on 
intuition  in  trailing  the  Indians.  At  first,  considering 
Porter's  early  boasts  about  his  skill,  DeWitt  was  much 
disappointed  by  the  old-timer's  haphazard  methods. 
But  after  a  few  weeks'  testing  of  the  terrible  hardships 
of  the  desert,  after  a  few  demonstrations  of  the  Apache's 
cleverness,  John  had  concluded  that  intuition  was  the 
most  reliable  weapon  that  the  whites  could  hope  to 
discover  with  which  to  offset  the  Indian's  appalling  skill 
and  knowledge. 

It  was  an  exhausted  quartet  with  its  string  of  horses 
that  drew  up  at  Kelly's  dusty  corral.  Dick  Kelly,  a 
stocky  Irishman,  greeted  the  strangers  pleasantly. 
When,  however,  he  learned  their  names  he  rose  to  the 
occasion  as  only  an  Irishman  can. 

"You  gentlemen  are  at  the  end  of  your  rope,  wid  the 
end  frayed  at  that!"  he  said.  "Now  come  in  for  a 
few  hours'  rest  and  the  Chinaman  will  cook  you  the  best 
meal  he  knows  how." 


THE  CROSSING  TRAILS  175 

" Lord,  no!"  cried  Billy.  "  We're  so  close  on  the  track 
now  that  we  can  hang  on  to  the  end.  If  you've  had  no 
trace  here  we'll  just  double  back  and  start  from  the 
mountains  again!" 

By  this  time  a  dozen  cowboys  and  ranch  hands  were 
gathered  about  the  newcomers.  Every  one  knew  about 
Rhoda's  disappearance.  Every  one  knew  about  every 
man  in  the  little  search  party.  In  the  flicker  of  the 
lanterns  the  men  looked  pityingly  at  DeWitt's  haggard  face. 

"Say,"  said  a  tall,  lank  cowman,  "if  you'll  go  in  and 
sleep  till  daylight,  usn'll  scour  this  part  of  the  desert  with 
a  fine-tooth  comb.  So  you  all  won't  lose  a  minute  by 
taking  a  little  rest.  An'  if  we  find  the  Injun  we'll  string 
him  up  and  save  you  the  trouble." 

DeWitt  spoke  for  the  first  time. 

"If  you  find  the  Indian,"  he  said  succinctly,  "he's 
mine!" 

There  was  a  moment's  silence  in  the  crowd.  These 
men  were  familiar  with  elemental  passion.  DeWitt's 
feeling  was  perfectly  correct  in  their  eyes.  The  pause 
came  as  each  pictured  himself  in  DeWitt's  place  with  the 
image  of  the  delicate  Eastern  girl  suffering  who  knew 
what  torments  constantly  before  him. 

"If  Mr.  Kelly  can  arrange  for  that,"  said  Jack,  "I 
guess  it  will  about  save  our  lives.  I'd  like  a  chance  to 
write  a  letter  to  my  wife." 


176  THE  HEART  OF  THE  DESERT 

"You  ought  to  go  back  to  the  ditch,  Jack,"  said  DeWitt, 
"Porter  and  I  will  manage  somehow," 

Jack  gave  DeWitt  a  strange  look. 

"Rhoda's  a  lifelong  friend  of  mine.  She  was  stolen 
Trom  my  home  by  my  friend  whom  I  told  her  she 
could  trust.  Katherine  and  the  foreman  can  run  the 
ranch." 

By  the  time  that  the  four  had  washed  themselves, 
Kelly  had  his  men  dotted  over  the  surrounding  desert. 
For  the  first  time  in  weeks,  the  searchers  sat  down  at  a 
table.  DeWitt,  Porter  and  Newman  were  in  astonishing 
contrast  to  the  three  who  had  dined  at  the  Newman  ranch 
the  night  of  Cartwell's  introduction  to  Porter.  Their 
khaki  clothes  had  gradually  been  replaced  by  nondescript 
garments  picked  up  at  various  ranches.  DeWitt  and 
Porter  boasted  of  corduroy  trousers,  while  Jack  wore 
overalls.  On  the  other  hand,  Jack  wore  a  good  blue 
flannel  shirt,  while  the  other  two  displayed  only  faded 
gingham  garments  that  might  have  answered  to  almost 
any  name.  All  of  them  were  a  deep  mahogany  color, 
with  chapped,  split  lips  and  bleached  hair,  while  DeWitt's 
eyes  were  badly  inflamed  from  sun-glare  and  sand-storm. 

They  ate  silently.  Dick  Kelly,  sitting  at  the  head  of 
the  table,  plied  them  with  food  and  asked  few  questions. 
DeWitt's  shaking  hands  told  him  that  questions  were 
torture  to  the  poor  fellow.     After  the  meal  Kelly  led 


THE  CROSSING  TRAILS  177 

them  to  bed  at  once,  and  they  slept  without  stirring  until 
four  o'clock  in  the  morning,  when  the  Chinaman  called 
them.     Breakfast  was  steaming  on  the  table. 

"Now,"  said  Kelly,  as  his  guests  ate,  "the  boys  didn't 
get  a  smell  for  ye,  but  we've  a  suggestion.  Have  you 
been  through  the  Pueblo  country  yet  ?" 

"No,"  said  Porter. 
.   "Well,"  the  host  went  on,  "Chira  is  the  only  place 
round  here  except  my  ranch  where  he  could  get  a  new 
outfit.     He's  part  Pueblo,  you  know,  too.     I'd  start  for 
there  if  I  was  you." 

Carlos  entered  to  hear  this  suggestion. 

"I've  got  a  friend  at  Chira,"  he  said,  "who  might  help 
us.     He's  a  half-breed." 

The  tired  men  took  eagerly  to  this  forlorn  hope. 
With  all  the  population  of  the  ranch,  including  the  cook, 
gathered  to  wish  them  Godspeed,  the  four  started  off 
before  the  sun  had  more  than  tmted  the  east.  Kelly  had 
offered  them  anything  on  the  ranch,  from  himself,  his 
cook  and  his  cowboys,  to  the  choice  of  his  horses.  His 
guests  left  as  much  heartened  by  his  cheerfulness  and 
good  will  as  they  were  by  the  actual  physical  comforts 
he  had  given  them. 

The  trail  to  Chira  was  long  and  hard.  They  reached 
the  little  town  at  dusk  and  Carlos  set  out  at  once  in  search 
of  his  friend,  Philip.     He  found  him  easily.     He  was 

12 


178  THE  HEART  OF  THE  DESERT 

half  Mexican,  half  Pueblo.  He  and  Carlos  chatted 
briskly  in  hybrid  Spanish  while  the  Americans  watched 
the  horses  wade  in  the  little  river.  Visitors  were  so 
common  in  Chira  that  the  newcomers  attracted  little  or 
no  attention. 

Carlos  finally  turned  from  his  friend. 

"Philip  does  not  know  anything  about  it.  He  says 
for  us  to  come  to  his  house  while  he  finds  out  anything. 
His  wife  is  a  good  cook.'* 

The  thought  of  a  hot  meal  was  pleasant  to  the  Ameri- 
cans. They  followed  gladly  to  Philip's  adobe  rooms. 
Here  the  half-breed  left  them  to  his  wife  and  disappeared. 
He  was  gone  perhaps  an  hour  when  he  returned  with  a 
bit  of  cloth  in  his  hand,  which  he  handed  to  Carlos  with 
a  few  rapid  sentences.  Carlos  gave  the  scrap  of  cloth  to 
DeWitt,  who  looked  at  it  eagerly  then  gave  a  cry  of  joy. 
It  was  Rhoda's  handkerchief. 

"He  found  a  little  girl  washing  her  doll  with  it  at  the 
river,"  said  Carlos.  "She  said  she  found  it  blowing 
along  the  street  this  morning." 

" Come  on!"  cried  Jack,  making  for  the  door. 

"Come  on  where?"  said  Billy.  "If  they  are  in  the 
village,  you  don't  want  to  get  away  very  far.  And  if 
they  ain't,  which  way  are  you  going  ?" 

"Ask  Philip  where  to  go,  Carlos,"  said  DeWitt. 

He  held  the  little  moist  handkerchief  in  his  hand  tightly 


THE  CROSSING  TRAILS  179 

while  his  heart  beat  heavily.  Once  more  hope  was  soar- 
ing high. 

Philip  thought  deeply,  then  he  and  Carlos  talked 
rapidly  together. 

"Philip  says,"  reported  Carlos,  "that  you  must  go  out 
and  watch  along  the  river  front  so  that  if  they  have  not 
gone  you  can  catch  them  if  they  try.  He  and  I  will  go 
visit  every  family  as  if  I  wanted  to  buy  an  outfit." 

Darkness  had  settled  on  the  little  town  when  the  three 
Americans  took  up  their  vigil  opposite  the  open  face  of 
the  Pueblo  along  the  river.  All  that  night  they  stood  on 
guard  but  not  a  human  being  crossed  their  line  of  patroL 


CHAPTER  XIII 

AN  INTERLUDE 

T  ATE  in  the  afternoon,  Rhoda  woke.  Kut-le  stood 
■^■^  beside  her.  His  expression  was  half  eager,  half 
tender. 

"How  do  you  feel  now?"  he  asked. 

"Quite  well,"  answered  Rhoda.  "Will  you  call 
Marie?    I  want  to  dress." 

"You  must  rest  in  bed  today,"  replied  the  Indian. 
"Tomorrow  will  be  soon  enough  for  you  to  get  up." 

Rhoda  looked  at  the  young  man  with  irritation. 

"Can't  you  learn  that  I  am  not  a  squaw?  That  it 
maddens  me  to  be  ordered  about  ?  That  every  time  you 
do  you  alienate  me  more,  if  possible  ?" 

"You  do  foolish  stunts,"  said  Kut-le  calmly,  "and  I 
have  to  put  you  right." 

Rhoda  moaned. 

"Oh,  how  long,  how  long  must  I  endure  this!  How 
could  they  be  so  stupid  as  to  let  you  slip  through  their 
fingers  so!" 

Kut-le's  mouth  became  a  narrow  seam. 

"As  soon  as  I  can  get  you  into  the  Sierra  Madre,  I 

181 


182  THE  HEART  OF  THE  DESERT 

shall  marry  you.  You  are  practically  a  well  woman  now. 
But  I  am  not  going  to  hurry  overmuch.  You  are  going 
to  love  me  first  and  you  are  going  to  love  this  life  first. 
Then  we  will  go  to  Paris  until  the  storm  has  passed." 

Rhoda  did  not  seem  to  hear  him.  She  tossed  her  arms 
restlessly. 

"Please  send  Marie  to  me,"  she  said  finally.  "You 
will  permit  me  to  eat  something  perhaps  ?" 

Kut-le  left  the  room  at  once.  In  a  short  time  he 
returned  with  Marie,  who  bore  a  steaming  bowl  which 
he  himself  flanked  with  a  dish  of  luscious  melon.  The 
woman  propped  Rhoda  adroitly  to  a  sitting  position  and 
Kut-le  gravely  balanced  the  bowl  against  the  girl's  knees. 
The  stew  which  the  bowl  contained  was  delicious,  and 
Rhoda  ate  it  to  the  last  drop.  She  ate  in  silence,  while 
Kut-le  watched  her  with  unspeakable  longing  in  his  eyes. 
The  room  was  almost  dark  when  the  simple  meal  was 
finished.  Marie  brightened  the  fire  and  smoothed 
Rhoda's  blankets. 

*^ Kut-le  go  now,"  said  the  Pueblo  woman.  "You 
rest.  In  morning,  Marie  bring  white  squaw  some 
clothes." 

Rhoda  was  glad  to  pillow  her  head  on  her  arm  but  it 
was  long  before  she  slept.  She  tried  to  piece  together 
her  faint  and  distorted  recollection  of  the  occurrences 
since  the  morning  when  the  mesa  had  risen  through  the 


AN  INTERLUDE  183 

dawn.  But  her  only  clear  picture  was  of  John  DeWitt^s 
wild  face  as  she  disappeared  into  the  fissure.  She  recalled 
its  look  of  agony  and  sobbed  a  little  to  herself  as  she 
realized  what  torture  he  and  the  Newmans  must  have 
endured  since  her  disappearance.  And  yet  she  was  very 
hopeful.  If  her  friends  could  come  as  close  to  her  as 
they  did  before  the  mesa,  they  must  be  learning  Kut-le's 
methods.  Surely  the  next  time  luck  would  not  play  so 
well  for  the  Indian. 

Rhoda  woke  in  the  morning  to  the  sound  of  song. 
Marie  knelt  on  the  ground  before  a  sloping  slab  of  stone 
and  patiently  kneeded  corn  with  a  smaller  stone.  Her 
song,  a  quaint  repetition  of  short  mellow  syllables  pleased 
Rhoda's  sensitive  ear  and  she  lay  listening.  When 
Marie  saw  Rhoda's  wide  eyes  she  came  to  the  girPs 
side. 

"You  feel  good  now?*'  she  queried. 

"  Yes,  much  better.     I  want  to  get  up." 

The  Indian  woman  nodded. 

"Marie  clean  white  squaw's  clothes.  White  squaw 
wear  Marie's.     Now  Marie  help  you  wash." 

Rhoda  smiled. 

"You  are  not  an  Apache  if  you  want  me  to  bathe!" 

Marie  answered  indignantly. 

"Marie  is  Pueblo  squaw!" 

The  clothes  that  Marie  brought,  Rhoda  thought  very 


184  THE  HEART  OF  THE  DESERT 

attractive.  There  was  a  soft  wool  underdress  of  cream- 
iest tint.  Over  this  Marie  pulled,  fastening  it  at  one 
shoulder,  a  gay,  many-colored  overdress  which,  like  the 
one  she  herself  wore,  reached  to  the  knees.  Rhoda 
pulled  on  her  own  high  laced  boots  which  had  been 
neatly  mended.  Then  the  two  turned  their  attention  to 
the  neglected  braid  of  hair. 

When  it  was  loosened  and  hung  in  tangled  masses 
nearly  to  Rhoda's  knees,  Marie's  delight  in  its  loveliness 
knew  no  expression.  She  fetched  a  queer  battered  old 
comb  which  she  washed  and  then  proceeded  with  true 
feminine  rapture  to  comb  the  wonderful  waving  locks. 
In  the  midst  of  this  Kut-le  entered.  He  gazed  on 
Rhoda's  new  disguise  with  delight.  Indeed  her  delicate 
face,  above  the  many-hued  garment,  was  like  a  harebell 
growing  in  a  gaudy  nasturtium  bed. 

"We  can  only  let  you  on  the  roof,"  said  Kut-le,  who 
was  carrying  Rhoda's  sombrero. 

Rhoda  made  no  reply  but  when  Marie  had  plaited  her 
hair  in  a  rippling  braid  she  followed  Kut-le  up  the  short 
ladder.  Her  sense  of  cleanliness  after  the  weeks  of 
disorder  was  delightful.  As  she  stepped  on  the  flat- 
topped  roof  and  the  sweet  clear  air  filled  her  lungs  she 
felt  as  if  reborn.  With  Navajo  blankets,  Kut-le  had 
contrived  an  awning  that  not  only  made  a  bit  of  shade 
but  precluded  view  from  below.    The  rich  tints  of  the 


AN  INTERLUDE  185 

blankets  were  startlingly  picturesque  against  the  yellow 
gray  of  the  adobe.  Rhoda  dropped  luxuriantly  to  the 
heap  of  blankets  and  turned  her  face  toward  the 
mountain,  many-colored  and  bare  toward  the  base,  deep- 
cloaked  with  pi  lion,  oak  and  juniper  on  the  uplands. 
From  its  bfjse  flowed  the  little  river,  gurgling  over  its 
shallow  bed  of  stone  and  rich  with  green  along  its  flat 
banks.  Close  beside  the  river  was  the  Pueblo  village,  the 
many-terraced  buildings,  on  one  of  the  roofs  of  which 
Rhoda  sat. 

Kut-le,  stretched  on  the  roof  near  by,  smoked  cigarette 
after  cigarette  as  he  watched  the  girFs  quiet  face,  but  he 
did  not  speak.  For  three  or  four  hours  the  two  sat  thus  in 
silence.  Just  as  the  sun  sank  behind  the  mountain,  a  bell 
clanged  and  then  fell  to  tolling  softly.  Then  Kut-le  broke 
his  silence. 

"That's  the  bell  of  the  old  mission.  Some  one  has 
been  buried,  I  guess.  We  can  look.  There  are  no 
tourists  now." 

There  was  a  sound  of  wailing:  a  deep  mournful  sound 
that  caught  Rhoda's  heart  to  her  throat  and  blanched  her 
face.  It  was  the  sound  of  the  grief  of  primitive  man,  the 
cry  of  the  forlorn  and  broken-hearted,  uncloaked  by 
convention.  It  touched  a  primitive  chord  of  response  in 
Rhoda  that  set  her  to  trembling.  Surely,  when  the  world 
was  young  she  too  had  wept  so.    Surely  she  too  had 


186  THE  HEART  OF  THE  DESERT 

voiced  a  poignant,  unbearable  loss  in  just  such  a  wild 
outpouring  of  grief! 

They  moved  to  the  edge  of  the  terrace  and  looked 
below  into  the  street.  Down  the  rocky  way  a  line  of 
Indians  was  bearing  hand-mills  and  jars  and  armloads 
of  ornaments. 

"They  will  take  those  to  the  'killing  place'  and  break 
them  that  the  dead  owner  may  have  them  afterward,'* 
explained  Kut-le  softly.  "It  always  makes  me  think  of 
a  verse  in  the  Bible.  I  can't  recall  the  words  exactly, 
though." 

Rhoda  glanced  up  into  the  dark  face  with  a  look  of 
appreciation. 

"  'And  the  grinders  shall  cease  because  they  are  few!'  '* 
she  said,  "  *and  those  that  look  out  of  the  windows  be 
darkened.  And  the  doors  shall  be  shut  in  the  street 
when  the  sound  of  the  grinding  is  low,  because  man 
goeth  to  his  long  home  and  mourners  go  about  the 
street.' " 

"And  there  is  something  else,"  murmured  Kut-le, 
"about  'the  silver  cord.'" 

"  'Or  ever  the  silver  cord  be  loosed  or  the  golden  bowl 
be  broken  or  the  pitcher  be  broken  at  the  fountain  or  the 
wheel  broken  at  the  cistern.  Then  shall  the  dust  return 
to  the  earth  as  it  was  and  the  spirit  to  God  who  gave  it.'" 

They  stood  in  silence  again.     The  wailing  died  into 


AN  INTERLUDE  187 

the  distdnce.  The  sun  touched  to  molten  gold  the  heavy 
shadows  of  the  mountain  arroyos.  Rhoda  was  deeply 
moved  by  the  scene  below  her.  She  felt  as  if  she  had 
been  thrust  back  through  the  ages  to  look  upon  the 
sorrow  of  some  little  Judean  town.  The  little  rocky 
street,  the  vivid  robes,  the  weird,  dying  wail,  the  broken 
ornaments  and  utensils  that  some  folded  tired  hands 
would  use  no  more,  and,  above  all,  the  simple  unques- 
tioning faith,  roused  in  her  a  sudden  longing  for  a  life 
that  she  never  had  known.  For  a  long  time  she  stood 
in  thought.     As  darkness  fell  she  roused  herself. 

"  Let  me  go  back  to  my  room,"  she  said. 

As  they  turned,  neither  noticed  that  Rhoda's  little 
handkerchief,  which  she  had  carried  through  all  her 
experiences,  fluttered  from  her  sleeve  to  the  street. 

Again  it  was  long  before  Rhoda  slept.  Through  her 
window  there  floated  the  sound  of  song,  the  evening 
singing  of  Indian  lads  in  the  village  street.  There  was  a 
vibrant  quality  in  their  voices  that  Rhoda  could  liken 
only  to  the  music  of  stringed  instruments.  There  was 
neither  the  mellow  smoothness  of  the  negro  voice  nor  the 
flute-like  sweetness  of  the  white,  yet  the  voices  compassed 
all  the  mystical  appealing  quality  of  violin  notes. 

The  music  woke  in  Rhoda  a  longing  for  she  knew  not 
what.  It  seemed  to  her  as  if  she  were  peering  past  a 
misty  veil  into  the  childhood  of  the  world  to  whose 


188  THE  HEART  OF  THE  DESERT 

simple  beauty  and  delights  civilization  had  made  her 
alien.  The  vibrating  voices  chanted  slower  and  slower. 
Rhoda  stirred  uneasily.  To  be  free  again  as  these  voices 
were  free!  Not  to  long  for  the  civilization  she  had  left 
but  for  open  skies  and  trails!    To  be  free  again! 

As  the  voices  melted  into  silence,  a  guitar  was  touched 
softly  under  Rhoda^s  window  and  Kut-le's  voice  rose  in 
La  Golondrina: 

"Whither  so  swiftly  flies  the  timid  swallow? 
What  distant  bourne  seeks  her  untiring  wing? 
To  reach  her  nest  what  needle  does  she  follow 
When  darkness  wraps  the  poor  wee  storm-tossed  thing?" 

Rhoda  stirred  restlessly  and  threw  her  arms  above  her 

head. 

"To  build  her  nest  near  to  my  couch  I'll  call  her! 
Why  go  so  far  dark  and  strange  skies  to  seek? 
Safe  would  she  be,  no  evil  should  befall  her, 
For  I'm  an  exile  sad,  too  sad  to  weep!" 

Mist-like  floated  across  Rhoda's  mind  a  memory  of  the 
trail  with  voice  of  mating  bird  at  dawn,  with  stars  and 
the  night  wind  and  the  open  way.  And  going  before, 
always  Kut-le — Kut-le  of  the  unfathomable  eyes,  of  the 
merry  smile,  of  the  gentle  touch.  The  music  merged 
itself  into  Rhoda's  dreams. 

She  spent  the  following  day  on  the  roof.  Curled  on  her 
Navajo  she  watched  the  changing  tones  on  the  mountains 
and  listened  to  the  soft  voices  of  the  Pueblo  women  in 


AN  INTERLUDE  189 

the  street  below.  Naked  brown  babies  climbed  up  and 
down  the  ladders  and  paddled  in  the  shallow  rivei, 
Indian  women  with  scarlet  shawls  across  their  shoulders 
filled  thdr  ollas  at  the  river  and  stood  gossiping,  the 
brimming  ollas  on  their  heads.  In  the  early  morning 
the  men  had  trudged  to  the  alfalfa  and  melon  fields  and 
returned  at  sundown  to  be  greeted  joyfully  by  the  women 
and  children. 

Kut-le  spent  the  day  at  Rhoda's  side.  They  talked 
but  little,  though  Rhoda  had  definitely  abandoned  her 
r61e  of  silence  toward  the  Indian.  Her  mind  during 
most  of  the  day  was  absorbed  in  wondering  why  she  so 
enjoyed  watching  the  life  in  this  Indian  town  and  why 
she  was  not  more  impatient  to  be  gone. 

As  the  sun  dropped  behind  the  mountain  Marie 
appeared  on  the  roof,  her  black  eyes  very  bright. 

**  Half-bread  Philip  find  white  squaw's  handkerchief. 
Give  to  white  men,  maybe!  Marie  see  Philip  get  hand- 
kerchief from  little  girl." 

Kut-le  gave  Rhoda  an  inscrutable  look,  but  she  did 
not  tell  him  that  she  shared  his  surprise. 

"Well,"  said  Kut-le  calmly,  "maybe  we  had  better 
mosey  along." 

They  descended  to  find  Marie  hastily  doing  up  a  bun- 
dle of  bread  and  fruit.  While  Kut-le  went  for  blankets 
Rhoda,  at  Marie's  request,  donned  her  old  clothing  of 


190  THE  HEART  OF  THE  DESERT 

the  trail.  She  had  been  wearing  the  squaw's  holiday 
outfit.  Very  shortly,  with  a  hasty  farewell  to  Marie, 
they  were  in  the  dusky  street.  "Shall  I  gag  you,"  asked 
Kut-le,  "or  will  you  give  me  your  word  of  honor  to  give 
neither  sign  nor  sound  until  we  get  to  the  mountain,  and 
to  keep  your  face  covered  with  your  Navajo  ?" 

Rhoda  sighed. 

"Very  well,  I  promise,"  she  said. 

In  a  very  short  time  they  had  reached  the  end  of  the 
little  street  and  were  climbing  an  arroyo  up  into  the 
mountain.  When  they  reached  the  pinons  Kut-le  gave 
the  coyote  call.  It  thrilled  Rhoda  with  the  misery  of 
the  night  of  her  capture.  Almost  immediately  there  was 
an  answering  call  and  close  in  the  shadow  of  the  pinon 
they  found  Alchise  and  the  two  squaws.  Molly  ran  to 
Rhoda  with  a  squeal  of  joy  and  patted  the  girl's  hand  but 
Alchise  and  Cesca  gave  no  heed  to  her  greeting. 

The  ponies  were  ready  and  Rhoda  swung  herself  to  her 
saddle,  with  a  thrill  at  the  touch  of  the  muscular  little 
horse.  And  once  more  she  rode  after  Kut-le  with  the 
mystery  of  the  night  trail  before  her. 

The  sound  of  water  falling,  the  cheep  of  wakening 
birds,  the  subtle  odor  of  moisture-drenched  soil  roused 
Rhoda  from  her  half  sleep  on  the  horse's  back  at  the  end 
of  the  night's  journey.  The  trail  had  not  been  hard, 
through  an  endless  pine  forest  for  the  most  part.    Kut-le 


AN  INTERLUDE  191 

drew  rein  beside  a  little  waterfall  deep  in  the  mountain 
fastness.  Rhoda  saw  a  chaos  of  rock  masses  huge  and 
distorted,  as  if  an  inconceivably  cruel  and  gigantic  hand 
had  juggled  with  weights  seemingly  immovable;  about 
these  the  loveliness  of  vine  and  shrub;  above  them  the 
towering  junipers  dwarfed  by  the  rocks  they  shaded;  and 
falling  sofdy  over  the  harsh  brown  rifts  of  rock,  the  liquid 
green  and  white  of  a  mountain  brook  which,  as  it  reached 
the  level,  rushed  away  in  a  roar  of  foam. 

Rhoda's  horse  drank  thirstily  and  she  stood  beside  him 
watching  the  mystical  gray  of  the  dawn  lift  to  the  riotous 
rose  of  the  sunrise.  She  wondered  at  the  quick  throb  of 
her  pulse.  It  was  very  dijfferent  from  its  wonted  soft 
beat.    Then  she  threw  herself  on  her  blanket  to  sleep. 

When  Rhoda  woke,  late  in  the  day,  Kut-le  had  spread 
Marie's  cakes  and  fruit  on  leaves  which  he  had  washed  in 
the  brook. 

"They  are  quite  clean,  I  think,"  he  said  a  little 
anxiously.    "  At  least  the  squaws  haven't  touched  them." 

Rhoda  and  Kut-le  sat  on  a  rock  and  ate  hungrily. 
When  she  had  finished  Rhoda  clasped  her  hands  about 
her  knees.  She  looked  singularly  boyish,  with  her 
sombrero  pushed  back  from  her  face  and  short  locks  of 
damp  hair  curling  from  beneath  the  crown. 

"Isn't  it  queer,"  she  said,  "that  you  elude  Jack  and 
John  DeWitt  so  easily  ?" 


192  THE  HEART  OF  THE  DESERT 

"The  trouble  is,"  said  Kut-le,  "that  you  don't  appre- 
ciate the  prowess  of  your  captors." 

"Humph!"  sniffed  Rhoda. 

"Listen!"  cried  Kut-le  with  sudden  enthusiasm. 
"Ouce  in  my  boyhood  Geronima  and  about  twenty 
warriors,  with  twice  as  many  squaws  and  children,  fled 
to  the  mountains.  They  never  drew  rein  until  they 
were  one  hundred  and  twenty  miles  from  the  reservation. 
Then  for  six  months  they  were  pursued  by  two  thousand 
American  soldiers  and  they  never  lost  a  man!" 

"How  many  whites  were  killed?"  asked  Rhoda. 

"About  a  hundred!" 

"I  don't  understand  yet,"  Rhoda  shook  her  head, 
"how  savages  could  outwit  whites  for  so  long  a  time." 

"  But  it's  not  a  contest  of  brains.  Whites  must  travel 
like  whites,  with  food  and  rests.  The  Apache  travels 
like  the  coyote,  living  off  the  country.  Your  ancestors 
have  been  training  your  brain  for  a  thousand  years. 
Mine  have  spent  centuries  of  days,  twenty-four  hours  a 
day,  training  the  body  to  endure  hardships.  You  have 
had  a  glimpse  of  what  the  hardships  of  this  country 
might  mean  to  a  white!" 

As  Kut-le  talked,  Rhoda  sat  with  her  eyes  fastened  on 
the  rough  face  of  a  distant  rock.  As  she  watched  she 
saw  a  thick,  leafy  bush  move  up  to  the  rock.  Rhoda 
caught  her  breath,  glanced  at  the  unconscious  Kut-le, 


AN  INTERLUDE  193 

then  back  at  the  bush.  It  moved  slowly  back  among  the 
trees  and  after  a  moment  Rhoda  saw  the  undergrowth  far 
beyond  move  as  with  a  passing  breeze.  She  glanced  at 
the  nodding  Alchise  and  the  squaws,  then  smiled  and 
turned  to  Kut-le. 

'*Go  on  with  your  boasting,  Kut-le.  It's  your  one 
weakness,  I  think." 

Kut-le  grinned. 

"Well  now,  honestly,  what  do  you  think  that  a  lot  of 
Caucasians  can  do  with  an  enemy  whose  existence  has 
always  been  a  fist  to  fist  fight  with  nature  at  her  crudest  ? 
We  have  fought  with  our  bare  hands  and  we  have  won,'* 
he  continued,  half  to  himself.  "No  white  man  or  any 
number  of  whites  can  capture  me  on  my  own  ground!" 

"Boaster!"  laughed  Rhoda. 

Just  beyond  the  falls  an  aspen  quivered.  John  DeWitt 
stepped  into  view.  Haggard  and  wild-eyed,  he  stared 
at  Rhoda.  She  raised  her  finger  to  her  lips,  but  too  late. 
Kut-le  too  looked  up,  and  raised  his  gun.  Rhoda  hurled 
herself  toward  him  and  struck  up  the  barrel.  Kut-le 
dropped  the  gim  and  caught  Rhoda  in  his  arms. 

"The  woods  are  full  of  them!"  he  grunted.  With  one 
hand  across  Rhoda's  mouth,  he  ran  around  the  falls  and 
dropped  six  feet  to  a  narrow  back  trail. 

"My  own  ground!"  Rhoda  heard  him  chuckle. 


13 


CHAPTER  XIV 

THE  BEAUTY  OF  THE  WORLD 

'n?OR  many  hurrying  minutes,  Rhoda  saw  only  the 
•■■  passing  tree  branches  black  against  the  evening 
sky  as  she  lay  across  Kut-le's  breast.  The  pursuers 
had  made  no  sound  nor  had  Kut-le  broken  a  single 
twig.  The  entire  incident  might  have  been  a  pantomime, 
with  every  actor  tragically  intent. 

Having  long  learned  the  futility  of  struggling,  Rhoda 
lay  quietly  enough,  her  ears  keen  to  catch  the  sound  of 
pursuit.  Kut-le  did  not  remove  his  hand  from  her  mouth. 
But  as  he  dropped  rapidly  and  skilfully  down  the  moun- 
tainside he  whispered: 

"My  own  ground,  you  see!  It  will  take  them  a  good 
while  in  the  dusk  to  find  that  back  trail.  Only  a  few 
Indians  know  it." 

But  Rhoda^s  heart  was  beating  high.    Let  Kut-le 

boast  as  he  would,  she  was  sure  that  Jack  and  John 

DeWitt  were  learning  to  follow  the  trail.     The  most  vivid 

picture  in  her  mind  was  of  the  utter  weariness  of  John's 

face.     In  the  past  weeks  Rhoda  had  learned  how  fearful 

had  been  the  hardships  that  would  bring  such  weariness 

195 


196  THE  HEART  OF  THE  DESERT 

to  a  human  face.  Tears  came  to  her  eyes.  No  one  so 
weak,  so  useless  as  herself,  she  felt,  could  be  worth  such 
travail. 

Silently  they  moved  through  the  dusk.  Rhoda  knew 
that  the  other  Indians  must  be  close  behind  them,  yet 
no  sound  betrayed  their  presence.  After  a  half-hour  or 
so  ^;he  struggled  to  be  set  down.  But  Kut-le  only  tight- 
ened his  hold  and  it  was  fully  two  hours  later  that  he  set 
her  on  her  feet. 

"Don't  move,"  he  said.    "We  are  on  a  canon  edge." 

Rhoda  swung  her  blanket  to  her  shoulders,  for  the  night 
was  stinging  sharp.  She  was  not  afraid.  She  had  grown 
so  accustomed  to  the  night  trail  that  she  moved  unhesi- 
tatingly along  black  rims  that  had  at  first  paralyzed  her 
with  fear. 

"Now,"  said  Kut-le,  "I'm  not  going  to  travel  on  foot. 
The  only  horses  within  easy  distance  are  some  that  a 
bunch  of  Navajos  have  in  the  canon  below  here.  So  we 
will  go  down  and  get  them.  We  will  go  together  because 
I  can't  risk  coming  back  for  you.  We  will  have  to  hike 
pronto  after  we  get  'em.  Just  remember  that  you  are 
contaminated  by  the  company  you  are  keeping  and  that 
if  you  make  any  noise,  the  Navajos  will  shoot  you  up, 
with  the  rest  of  us!    Keep  right  behind  me." 

The  little  group  moved  carefully  down  the  canon  trail. 
In  a  short  time  they  reached  a  growth  of  trees.    They 


THE  BEAUTY  OF  THE  WORLD  197 

stole  through  these,  the  only  sound  Rhoda*s  panting 
breaths.     Suddenly  Kut-le  stopped. 

"Wait  here!"  he  breathed  in  Rhoda's  ear,  and  he  and 
Alchise  disappeared. 

A  hand  was  laid  on  her  arm  and  Rhoda  knew  that  Molly 
and  Cesca  were  guarding  her.  Almost  immediately  the 
soft  thud  of  hoofs  was  upon  them.  Kut-le  seized  Rhoda 
and  tossed  her  to  a  pony^s  back. 

"It  was  dead  easy!"  he  whispered.  "They  were  all 
asleep!    I  even  took  a  saddle  for  you!    Now  hike!" 

Rhoda  gripped  her  pony  with  her  knees  as  the  little 
fellow  cantered  unerringly  through  the  darkness  after 
Kut-le.  She  felt  a  sudden  pride  and  exultation  in  the 
security  she  had  developed  in  the  saddle  during  the 
travail  of  her  night  rides.  She  knew  that  no  man  of  her 
acquaintance  could  ride  a  horse  as  she  could  now.  And 
with  the  exultation  she  was  trembling  with  excitement. 
She  knew  that  none  of  them  could  expect  mercy  if  the 
Navajos  discovered  their  loss  in  time  to  take  up  the 
chase.  All  the  eagerness  of  the  gambler  who  stakes  his 
life  on  a  throw  of  the  dice;  all  the  wild  thrill  of  the  chase; 
all  the  trembling  of  the  panting,  woodland  things  that 
hunt  and  are  hunted,  were  Rhoda's  as  the  night  wind 
rushed  past  her  face.  The  apathy  of  illness  was  gone. 
Tonight  she  was  as  wild  a  thing  as  the  night's  birds  that 
brushed  across  their  trail  on  sweeping  wing. 


198  THE  HEART  OF  THE  DESERT 

When  they  made  camp  at  dawn  Rhoda  tumbled  into 
her  blanket  and  was  asleep  before  Alchise  finished  cover- 
ing their  trail.  When  she  woke  she  found  that  they  were 
camped  in  a  strange  eerie.  They  were  high  up  on  a 
mountain  on  a  shelf  that  gave  back  into  a  shallow  cave. 
In  front,  facing  the  desert,  was  a  heap  of  rock  that 
formed  a  natural  rampart.  A  tiny  spring  bubbled  from 
the  cave  floor.  Here  the  little  party  would  seem  as  secure 
in  their  dizzy  seclusion  as  eagles  of  the  Andes. 

It  was  barely  noon  and  the  mountain  air  was  sweet  and 
exhilarating.  Kut-le  sat  against  the  rampart,  smoking  a 
cigarette,  while  Molly  and  Cesca  worked  over  the  fire. 
Rhoda  lunched  on  the  tortillas  to  which  Molly  had  clung 
through  all  the  vicissitudes  of  flight. 

"  Where  are  the  horses  ?"  she  asked  Kut-Ie. 

"  Oh,  Alchise  took  them  back.  We  must  stay  here  a 
while  till  your  mob  of  friends  disperses.  I  couldn't  feed 
them  and  I  wanted  to  pacify  the  Navajos  and  get  some 
supplies  from  them.     Alchise  will  fix  it  up  with  them." 

And  here  on  this  dizzy  brink  of  the  desert  Kut-le  did 
pause  as  if  for  a  long,  long  holiday.  The  wisdom  of  the 
proceeding  did  not  trouble  him  at  all.  The  call  of  the 
desert  was  an  allurement  to  which  he  yielded  unresist- 
ingly, trusting  to  elude  capture  through  his  skill  and 
unfailing  good  fortune. 

To  Rhoda  the  pause  was  welcome.     She  still  had 


THE  BEAUTY  OF  THE  WORLD  199 

faith  that  the  longer  they  camped  in  one  spot  the  surer 
would  be  the  pursuers  to  stumble  upon  them.  Kut-le 
began  to  devote  himself  entirely  to  Rhoda's  amusement. 
He  knew  all  the  plant  and  animal  life  of  the  desert,  not 
only  as  an  Indian  but  as  a  college  man  who  had  loved 
biology.  By  degrees  Rhoda's  good  brain  began  to 
respond  to  his  vivid  interest  and  the  girl  in  her  stay  on  the 
mountain  shelf  learned  the  desert  as  has  been  given  to 
few  whites  to  learn  it.  Besides  what  she  learned  from 
the  men  Rhoda  became  expert  in  camp  work  under 
Molly's  patient  teaching.  She  could  kindle  the  tiny, 
smokeless  fire.  She  could  concoct  appetizing  messes  from 
the  crude  food.  She  could  detect  good  water  from  bad 
and  could  find  forage  for  horses.  The  crowning  pride 
of  her  achievements  was  learning  to  weave  the  dish 
basketry. 

They  had  lived  in  the  mountain  niche  some  three  weeks 
when  Alchise  and  Kut-le  left  the  camp  one  afternoon, 
Alchise  on  a  turkey  hunt,  Kut-le  on  one  of  his  mysterious 
trips  for  supplies.  Alchise  returned  at  dusk  with  a 
beautiful  bird  which  Rhoda  and  Molly  roasted  with  en- 
thusiasm. But  Kut-le  did  not  appear  at  supper  time  as 
he  had  promised.  When  the  meal  was  almost  spoiled 
from  waiting,  Rhoda  and  the  Indians  ate.  As  the  evening 
wore  on,  Alchise  grew  uneasy,  but  he  dared  not  disobey 
Kut-le's  orders  and  leave  the  camp  unguarded  at  night. 


200  THE  HEART  OF  THE  DESERT 

Rhoda  speculated,  torn  between  hope  and  fear.  Per* 
haps  the  searchers  had  captured  Kut-le  at  last.  Per- 
haps he  had  given  up  hope  of  winning  her  love  and  had 
gone  for  good.  Perhaps,  somewhere  or  other,  he  was 
lying  badly  hurt !  The  little  group  sat  up  much  later  than 
usual,  Cesca  silently  smoking  her  endless  cigarettes, 
Alchise  and  Molly  talking  now  in  Apache,  now  in 
English.  Rhoda  was  convinced  that  they  were  puzzled 
and  worried. 

Even  after  she  had  lain  down  on  her  blankets  Rhoda 
could  not  sleep.  With  Kut-le  gone  her  sense  of  the 
camp's  security  was  gone.  She  rose  finally  and  sat 
beside  Alchise  who,  rifle  in  hand,  guarded  the  ledge. 
There  was  no  moon  but  the  stars  were  very  large  and 
near.  Rhoda  was  growing  to  know  the  stars.  They  were 
remote  in  the  East;  in  the  desert  they  become  a  part  of 
one's  existence.  The  sense  of  stupendous  distance  was 
greater  at  night  than  in  the  daytime.  The  infinite 
heavens,  stretching  depth  beyond  depth,  the  faint  far 
spaces  of  the  desert,  were  as  if  one  looked  on  the  Great 
Mystery  itself. 

When  dawn  came,  Alchise  wakened  Cesca,  put  the 
rifle  into  her  hands,  and  hurried  back  up  over  the  moun- 
tain. The  purple  shadows  had  lightened  to  gray  when 
Rhoda  saw  Kut-le  staggering  up  the  trail  from  the  desert. 
Rhoda  gave  a  little  cry  and  ran  down  to  meet  him. 


THE  BEAUTY  OF  THE  WORLD  201 

"Kut-le!  What  happened  to  you?  We  were  so 
worried!" 

There  was  a  bloody  rag  tied  just  below  the  young 
Indian's  knee.  He  paused,  supporting  himself  against  a 
rock.  Across  his  eyes,  drawn  and  haggard  with  pain^ 
flashed  a  look  of  joy  that  Rhoda,  eying  the  bandage,  did 
not  see. 

"I  was  late  starting  back,"  he  said  briefly.  "In  the 
darkness  a  bit  of  the  trail  gave  way,  dropped  me  into  a 
canon  and  laid  my  leg  open.  I  was  unconscious  a  long 
time  and  lost  a  lot  of  blood,  so  it  has  taken  me  the  rest 
of  the  night  to  get  here.  Would  you  mind  getting 
Alchise  to  help  me  up  the  trail  ?" 

"Alchise  has  gone  to  look  for  yom  Lean  on  me," 
said  Rhoda  simply. 

Despite  his  weakness,  the  dark  blood  flushed  the 
young  man's  face,  while  Rhoda's  utter  unconsciousness 
of  her  changed  manner  brought  a  smile  to  his  set  lips. 
Not  if  the  torture  of  dragging  himself  up  the  trail  were 
to  be  ten  times  greater  would  he  now  have  availed  himself 
of  help  from  Alchise. 

"  If  you  will  let  me  put  my  arm  across  your  shoulder 
we  can  make  it,"  he  said  as  quietly  as  though  his  heart 
were  not  leaping. 

Rhoda's  squaring  of  her  i'ender  shoulders  was  dis- 
tractingly  boyish.     Utterly  heedless  of  the  pain  which 


£02  THE  HEART  OF  THE  DESERT 

each  step  cost  him,  Kut-le  made  his  way  slowly  to  the 
ledge,  ordering  back  the  flustered  squaws  and  leaning 
on  Rhoda  only  enough  to  feel  the  tender  girlish  shoulders 
beneath  the  worn  blue  blouse. 

In  the  camp,  Rhoda  assumed  command  while  Kut-le 
lay  on  his  blanket  watching  her  in  silent  content.  She 
put  one  of  Alchise's  two  calico  shirts  on  to  boil  over  the 
breakfast  fire.  She  washed  out  the  nasty  cut  and 
bandaged  it  with  strips  from  the  sterilized  shirt.  She 
brought  Kut-le's  breakfast  and  her  own  to  his  blanket 
side  and  coaxed  the  young  man  to  eat,  he  assuming  great 
indifference  merely  for  the  happiness  of  being  urged. 
Rhoda  was  so  energetic  and  eflacient  that  the  sun  was 
just  climbing  from  behind  the  far  peaks  when  Kut-le 
finished  his  bacon  and  coffee.  The  girl  stood  looking 
at  him,  hands  on  hips,  head  on  one  side,  with  that  look 
in  her  eyes  of  superiority,  maternity  and  complacent 
tenderness  which  a  woman  can  assume  only  when  she  has 
ministered  to  the  needs  of  a  helpless  masculine  thing. 

"There!"  she  said  with  a  sigh  of  satisfaction. 

"  Rhoda,"  said  Kut-le,  hoping  that  the  heavy  thumping 
of  his  heart  did  not  shake  his  whole  broad  chest,  "how 
long  ago  was  it  that  you  were  a  helpless,  dying  little  girl 
without  strength  to  cut  up  your  own  food?  How  long 
since  you  have  served  any  one  but  yourself?" 

Rhoda  drew  a  quick  breath.    She  stood  staring  from 


THE  BEAUTY  OF  THE  WORLD  SU)3 

the  Indian  to  the  desert,  to  her  slender  body,  and  back 
again.  She  held  out  her  hands  and  looked  at  them. 
They  were  scratched  and  brown  and  did  not  tremble. 
Then  she  looked  at  the  young  Indian  and  he  never  was 
to  forget  the  light  in  her  eyes. 

"Kut-le!"  she  cried.  "Kut-le!  I  am  well  again! 
I  am  well  again!" 

She  paced  back  and  forth  along  the  ledge.  Through 
the  creamy  tan  her  cheeks  flushed  richly  crimson. 
Finally  she  stopped  before  the  Apache. 

"You  have  outraged  all  my  civilized  instincts,"  she 
said  slowly,  "yet  you  have  saved  my  life  and  given  me 
health.  Whatever  comes,  Kut-le,  I  never  shall  forget 
that!" 

"  I  have  changed  more  than  that,"  said  Kut-le  quietly. 
"Where  is  your  old  hatred  of  the  desert?" 

Rhoda  turned  to  look.  At  the  edge  of  the  distant 
ranges  showed  a  rim  of  red.  Crimson  spokes  of  fire 
flashed  to  the  zenith.  The  sky  grew  brighter,  more 
translucent,  the  ranges  melted  into  molten  gold.  The 
sun,  hot  and  scarlet,  rolled  into  view.  Into  Rhoda's 
heart  flooded  a  sense  of  infinite  splendor,  infinite  beauty, 
infinite  peace. 

"Why!"  she  gasped  to  Kut-le,  "it  is  beautiful!  It's 
not  terrible!    If s  unadorned  beauty!" 

The  Indian  nodded  but  did  not  speak.    Rhoda  never 


204  THE  HEART  OF  THE  DESERT 

was  to  forget  that  day.  Long  years  after  she  was  to 
catch  the  afterglow  of  that  day  of  her  rebirth.  Suddenly 
she  realized  that  never  could  a  human  have  found  health 
in  a  setting  more  marvelous.  The  realization  was  almost 
too  much.  Kut-le,  with  sympathy  for  which  she  was 
grateful,  did  not  talk  to  her  much.  Once,  however,  as 
she  brought  him  a  drink  and  mechanically  smoothed  his 
blanket  he  said  softly: 

"You  who  have  been  served  and  demanded  service  all 
your  life,  why  do  you  do  this  ?" 

Rhoda  answered  slowly. 

"I'm  not  serving  you.  I'm  trying  to  pay  up  some  of 
the  debt  of  my  life." 

Kut-le  was  about  in  a  day  or  so  and  by  the  end  of  the 
week  he  was  quite  himself.  He  resumed  the  daily 
expeditions  with  Rhoda  and  Alchise  which  provided 
text  for  the  girl's  desert  learning.  Rhoda's  old  despond- 
ency, her  old  agony  of  prayer  for  immediate  rescue  had 
given  way  to  a  strange  conflict  of  desires.  She  was  eager 
for  rescue,  was  conscious  of  a  constant  aching  desire  for 
her  own  people,  and  yet  the  old  sense  of  outrage,  of  grief, 
of  hopelessness  was  gone. 

Of  a  sudden  she  found  herself  pausing,  thrusting  back 
the  problems  that  confronted  her  while  she  drank  to  the 
full  this  strange  mad  joy  of  life  which  she  felt  must  leave 
her  when  she  left  the  desert.     She  knew  only  that  the 


THE  BEAUTY  OF  THE  WORLD  205 

fear  of  death  was  gone.  That  hours  of  fever  and  pain 
were  no  more.  That  her  mind  had  found  its  old  poise 
but  with  an  utterly  new  view-point  of  life.  Her  blood 
ran  red.  Her  lungs  breathed  deep.  Her  eyes  saw 
distances  too  big  for  their  conception,  beauties  so  deep 
that  her  spirit  had  to  expand  to  absorb  them. 

The  silent  nights  of  stars,  the  laborious  crests  that 
tossed  sudden  and  unspeakable  views  before  the  eyes, 
the  eternal  canons  that  led  beneath  ranges  of  surpassing 
majesty,  roused  in  her  a  passion  of  delight  that  could 
find  expression  only  in  her  growing  physical  prowess. 
She  lived  and  ate  like  a  splendid  boy.  Day  after  day  she 
scaled  the  ranges  with  Kut-le  and  Alchise;  tenderly 
reared  creature  of  an  ultracivilization  as  she  was,  she 
learned  the  intricate  lore  of  the  aborigines,  learned  what 
students  of  the  dying  people  would  give  their  hearts  to 
know. 

Kut-le  wakened  Rhoda  at  dawn  one  day.  She  pre- 
pared the  breakfast  of  coffee,  bacon  and  tortilla.  Alchise 
shared  this  eagerly  with  Rhoda  and  Kut-le,  though 
already  he  had  eaten  with  the  squaws.  The  day  was 
still  gray  when  the  three  set  out  on  a  long  day's  trip  in 
search  of  game.  The  way  this  morning  led  up  a  canon 
deep  and  quiet,  with  the  night  shadows  still  dark  and  cool 
within  it.    The  air  was  that  of  a  northern  day  of  June. 

Rhoda  tramped  bravely,  up  and  up,  from  cactus  te 


{i06  THE  HEART  OF  THE  DESERT 

bear  grass,  from  bear  grass  to  stunted  cedar,  from  cedar 
to  pines  that  at  last  rose  triumphant  at  the  crest  of  a  great 
ridge.  Here  Rhoda  and  Kut-le  flung  themselves  to  the 
ground  to  rest  while  Alchise  prowled  about  restlessly. 
Across  a  hundred  miles  of  desert  rose  faint  snow-capped 
peaks. 

Kut-le  watched  Rhoda's  rapt  face  for  a  time.  Then, 
as  if  unable  to  keep  back  the  words,  he  said  softly: 

"Rhoda!  Stay  here,  always!  Marry  me  and  stay 
here  always!" 

Rhoda  looked  at  the  beautiful  pleading  eyes.  She 
stirred  restlessly;  but  before  she  could  frame  an  answer 
Alchise  appeared,  followed  by  a  lean  old  Indian  all  but 
toothless  who  wore  a  pair  of  tattered  overalls  and  a 
gauze  shirt.  The  two  Indians  stopped  before  Kut-le, 
and  Alchise  jerked  a  thumb  at  the  stranger. 

"Sabe  no  white  talk,"  he  said. 

Kut-le  passed  the  stranger  a  cigarette,  which  he  accepted 
without  comment.  A  rapid  conversation  followed  be- 
tween the  three  Indians. 

"He  is  an  Apache,"  explained  Kut-le,  finally,  to 
Rhoda.  "  His  name  is  Injun  Tom.  He  says  that  New- 
man and  Porter  hired  him  to  trail  us  but  he  is  tired  of 
the  job.  They  foolishly  advanced  him  five  dollars.  He 
says  they  are  camping  in  the  valley  right  below  here." 

Rhoda  sprang  to  her  feet. 


THE  BEAUTY  OF  THE  WORLD  207 

"Where  are  you  going?"  smiled  Kut-le.  "He  says 
they  are  going  to  shoot  me  on  sight!" 

Under  her  tan  Rhoda's  face  whitened. 

"Would  they  shoot  you,  Kut-le,  even  if  I  told  them  not 
to?" 

At  the  sight  of  the  paling  face  the  young  man  mur- 
mured, "You  dear!"  under  his  breath.  Then  aloud, 
"Not  if  I  were  your  husband." 

"  How  can  I  marry  a  savage  ?"  cried  Rhoda. 

Kut-le  put  his  hand  under  the  cleft  chin  and  lifted  the 
sweet  face  till  it  looked  directly  into  his.  His  gaze  was 
very  deep  and  clear. 

"Am  I  nothing  but  a  naked  savage,  Rhoda?"  he  said. 
"Ami?" 

Rhoda's  eyes  did  not  leave  his. 

"No!"  she  said  softly,  under  her  breath. 

Kut-le's  eyes  deepened.  He  turned  and  picked  up  his 
rifle. 

"  Bring  your  friend  back  to  dinner,  Alchise,"  he  said. 
"  Our  little  holiday  must  end  right  here." 

They  reached  the  camp  at  noon  and  while  the  squaws 
made  ready  for  breaking  camp,  Rhoda  sat  deep  in  thought. 
Before  her  were  the  burning  sky  and  desert,  with  hawk 
and  buzzard  circling  in  the  clear  blue.  Where  had  the 
old  hatred  of  Kut-le  gone  ?  Whence  came  this  new  trust 
and  understanding,  this  thrill  at  his  touch?    Kut-le, 


208  THE  HEART  OF  THE  DESERT 

who  had  been  watching  her  adoringly,  rose  and  came  to 
her  side.  The  rampart  hid  the  two  from  the  others. 
Kut-le  took  one  of  Rhoda's  hands  in  his  firm  fingers  and 
laid  his  lips  against  her  palm.  Rhoda  flushed  and  drew 
her  hand  away.  But  Kut-le  again  put  his  hand  beneath 
her  cleft  chin  and  lifted  her  face  to  his. 

Just  as  the  brown  face  all  but  touched  hers  a  voice 
sounded  from  behind  the  rampart: 

"Hello,  you!   Whereas  Kut-le?:: 


CHAPTER  XV 


AN  ESCAPE 


RHODA  sprang  away  from  Kut-Ie  and  they  both  ran 
to  the  other  side  of  the  rampart.  Billy  Porter,  worn 
and  tattered  but  still  looking  very  well  able  to  hold  his 
own,  stood  staring  into  the  cave  where  the  squaws  eyed 
him  open-mouthed  and  Alchise,  his  hand  on  his  rifle, 
scowled  at  him  aggressively.  Porter's  eye  fell  on  Injun 
Tom. 

"U-huhl  You  pison  Piute,  you!  I  just  nacherally 
snagged  your  little  game,  didn't  I  ?" 

"Billy!"  cried  Rhoda.     "O  Billy  Porter!" 

Porter  jumped  as  if  at  a  blow.  Rhoda  stood  against 
the  rock  in  her  boyish  clothes,  her  beautiful  braid  sweep- 
ing her  shoulder,  her  face  vivid. 

"My  God!  Miss  Rhoda!"  cried  Billy  hoarsely,  as 
he  ran  toward  her  with  outstretched  hands.  "Why, 
you  are  well!     What's  happened  to  you!" 

Here  Kut-le  stepped  between  the  two. 

"Hello,  Mr.  Porter,"  he  said. 

Billy  stepped  back  and  a  look  of  loathing  and  anger 

took  the  place  of  the  joy  that  had  been  in  his  eyes  before* 
U  209 


210  THE  HEART  OF  THE  DESERT 

"You  Apache  devil!"  he  growled.  "You  ain't  as 
smart  as  you  thought  you  were!" 

Rhoda  ran  forward  and  would  have  taken  Porter's 
hand  but  Kut-Ie  restrained  her  with  his  hand  on  her 
shoulder. 

"Where  did  you  come  from,  Billy?"  cried  Rhoda. 
"Where  are  the  others?" 

Billy's  face  cleared  a  little  at  the  sound  of  the  girl's 
voice. 

"They  are  right  handy,  Miss  Rhoda." 

"I'll  give  you  a  few  details,  Rhoda,"  said  Kut-le  coolly. 
"You  see  he  is  without  water  and  his  mouth  is  black 
with  thirst.  He  started  to  trail  Injun  Tom  but  got 
lost  and  stumbled  on  us." 

Rhoda  gave  a  little  cry  of  pity  and  running  into  the 
cave  she  brought  Billy  a  brimming  cup  of  water. 

"Is  that  true,  Billy?"  she  asked.  "Are  the  others 
near  here?" 

Billy  nodded  then  drained  the  cup  and  held  it  out  for 
more. 

"They  are  just  around  the  comer!"  with  a  glance  at 
Kut-le,  who  smiled  skeptically. 

"Oh!"  exclaimed  Rhoda.  "What  terrible  trouble  I 
have  made  you  all!" 

"  You  made!"  said  Porter.  "Well  that's  good!  Still, 
that  Apache  devil  doesn't  seem  to  have  harmed  you. 


AN  ESCAPE  211 

Just  the  same,  he'll  get  his!  If  I  shot  him  now,  the  other 
Injuns  would  get  me  and  God  knows  what  would  happea 
to  you!" 

"Whom  do  you  call  an  Apache  devil?"  asked  Kut-le. 
Rhoda  never  had  seen  him  show  such  evident  anger. 

"  You,  by  Judas!"  replied  Porter,  looking  into  the  young 
Indian's  face. 

For  a  strained  moment  the  two  eyed  each  other,  hatretl 
glaring  at  hatred,  until  Rhoda  put  a  hand  on  Kut-le's 
arm.     His  face  cleared  at  once. 

"So  that's  my  reputation  now,  is  it?"  he  said  lightly. 

^^ That's  your  reputation!"  sneered  Billy.  "Do  you 
think  that's  all?  Why,  don't  you  realize  that  you  can't 
live  in  your  own  country  again?  Don't  you  know  that 
the  whites  will  hunt  you  out  like  you  was  a  rat  ?  Don't 
you  realize  that  the  folks  that  believed  in  you  and  was 
fond  of  you  has  had  to  give  up  their  faith  in  you  ?  Don't 
you  understand  that  you've  lost  all  your  white  friends? 
But  I  suppose  that  don't  mean  anything  to  an  Injun!" 

A  look  of  sadness  passed  over  Kut-le's  face. 

"Porter,"  he  said  very  gently,  "I  counted  on  all  of 
that  before  I  did  this  thing.  I  thought  that  the  sacrifice 
was  worth  while,  and  I  still  think  so.  I'm  sorry,  for  your 
sake,  that  you  stumbled  on  us  here.  We  are  going  to 
start  on  the  trail  shortly  and  I  must  send  you  out  to  be 
lost  again.    I'll  let  Alchise  help  you  in  the  job.    As  you 


212  THE  HEART  OF  THE  DESERT 

say,  I  have  sacrificed  everything  else  in  life;  I  can't  afford 
to  let  anything  spoil  this  now.  You  can  rest  for  an  hour. 
Eat  and  drink  and  fill  your  canteen.  Take  a  good  pack 
of  meat  and  tortillas.    You  are  welcome  to  it  all." 

The  Indian  spoke  with  such  dignity,  with  such  tragic 
sincerity,  that  Porter  gave  him  a  look  of  surprise  and 
Rhoda  felt  hot  tears  in  her  eyes.  Kut-le  turned  to  the 
girl. 

"You  can  see  that  I  can't  let  you  talk  alone  with  Porter, 
but  go  ahead  and  say  anything  you  want  to  in  my  hearing. 
Molly,  you  bring  the  white  man  some  dinner  and  fix 
him  some  trail  grub.    Hurry  up,  now!" 

He  seated  himself  on  the  rampart  and  lighted  a  cigar- 
ette. Porter  sat  down  meditatively,  with  his  back  against 
the  mountain  wall.  He  was  discomfited.  Kut-le  had 
guessed  correctly  as  to  the  circumstances  of  his  finding 
the  camp.  He  had  no  idea  where  his  friends  might  have 
gone  in  the  twenty-four  hours  since  he  had  left  them. 
When  he  stumbled  on  to  Kut-le  he  had  had  a  sudden  hope 
that  the  Indian  might  take  him  captive.  The  Indian's 
quiet  reception  of  him  nonplussed  him  and  roused  his 
unwilling  admiration. 

Rhoda  sat  down  beside  Porter. 

"How  is  John?"  she  asked. 

"He  is  pretty  good.  He  has  lasted  better  than  I 
thought  he  would." 


AN  ESCAPE  213 

"And  Katherine  and  Jack?"  Rhoda's  voice  trembled 
as  she  uttered  the  names.  It  was  only  with  the  utmost 
difficulty  that  she  spoke  coherently.  All  her  nerves  were 
on  the  alert  for  some  unexpected  action  on  the  part  of 
either  Billy  or  the  Indians. 

"Jack's  all  right,"  said  Billy.  "We  ain't  seen  Mrs. 
Jack  since  the  day  after  you  was  took,  but  she's  all  to 
the  good,  of  course,  except  she's  been  about  crazy  about 
you,  like  the  rest  of  us." 

"Oh,  you  poor,  poor  people!"  moaned  Rhoda. 

Porter  essayed  a  smile  with  his  cracked  lips. 

"  But,  say,  you  do  look  elegant,  Miss  Rhoda.  You 
ain't  the  same  girl!" 

Rhoda  blushed  through  her  tan. 

"I  forgot  these,"  she  said;  "I've  worn  them  so 
long." 

"It  ain't  the  clothes,"  said  Billy,  "and  it  ain't  alto- 
gether your  fine  health.  It's  more — I  don't  know  what 
it  is!    It's  like  the  desert!" 

"That's  what  I  tell  her,"  said  Kut-le. 

"Say,"  said  Billy,  scowling,  "you've  got  a  nerve,  cut- 
ting in  as  if  this  was  a  parlor  conversation  you  had  cut 
in  on  casual.     Just  keep  out  of  this,  will  you!" 

Rhoda  flushed. 

"Well,  as  long  as  he  can  hear  everything,  it's  a  good 
deal  of  a  farce  not  to  let  him  talk,"  she  said. 


214  THE  HEART  OF  THE  DESERT 

"Farce!"  exclaimed  Billy.  "Say,  Miss  Rhoda,  you 
ain't  sticking  up  for  this  ornery  Piute,  are  you  ?" 

Rhoda  looked  at  the  calm  eyes  of  the  Indian,  at  the 
clean-cut  intelligence  of  his  face,  and  she  resented  Por- 
ter's words.    She  answered  him  softly  but  clearly. 

"Kut-le  did  an  awful  and  unforgivable  thing  in  steal- 
ing me.  No  one  knows  that  better  than  I  do.  But  he 
has  treated  me  with  respect  and  he  has  given  me  back  my 
health.  I  thank  him  for  that  and — ^and  I  do  respect 
him!" 

Kut-le's  eyes  flashed  with  a  deep  light  but  he  said 
nothing.    Porter  stared  at  the  girl  with  jaw  dropped. 

"Good  Lord!"  he  cried.  "Respect  him!  Wouldn't 
that  come  and  get  you!  Do  you  mean  that  you  want 
to  stay  with  that  Injun?" 

A  slow  flush  covered  Rhoda's  tanned  cheeks.  Her 
cleft  chin  lifted  a  little. 

"At  the  very  first  chance,"  she  replied,  "I  shall 
escape." 

Porter  sighed  in  great  relief. 

"That's  all  right.  Miss  Rhoda,"  he  said  leniently. 
"Respect  him  all  you  want  to.  I  don't  see  how  you  can, 
but  women  is  queer,  if  you  don't  mind  my  saying  so. 
I  don't  blame  you  for  feeling  thankful  about  your  health. 
You've  stood  this  business  better  than  any  of  us.  Say, 
that  squaw  seems  to  be  puttin'  all  her  time  on  making  up 


AN  ESCAPE  215 

my  pack.  Can't  I  negotiate  for  something  to  eat  rigkt 
now?    Tell  her  not  to  put  pison  into  it." 

Kut-le  grinned. 

"Maybe  Miss  Tuttle  will  fix  up  something  for  you, 
so  you  can  eat  without  worrying." 

"Well,  she  won't,  you  know!"  growled  Porter.  "Her 
wait  on  me!    She  ain't  no  squaw !" 

"  Oh,  but,"  cried  Rhoda,  "you  don't  know  how  proud  I 
am  of  my  skill!  I  can  run  the  camp  just  as  well  as  the 
squaws."  Then,  as  Porter  scowled  at  Kut-le,  ''He 
didn't  make  me!  I  wanted  to,  so  as  to  be  able  to  take 
care  of  myself  when  I  escaped.  When  you  and  I  get 
away  from  him,"  she  looked  at  the  silent  Indian  with  an 
expression  of  daring  that  brought  a  glint  of  amusement 
to  his  eyes,  "  I'll  be  able  to  live  off  the  trail  better  than 
you!" 

"Gee!"  exclaimed  Porter  admiringly. 

"Of  course,  in  one  way  it's  no  credit  to  me  at  all,'* 
Rhoda  went  on,  stirring  the  rabbit  stew  she  was  warming 
up.  "Kut-le — "  she  paused.  Of  what  use  was  it  t« 
try  to  explain  what  Kut-le  had  done  for  her! 

She  toasted  fresh  tortillas  and  poured  the  stew  over 
them  and  brought  the  steaming  dish  to  Porter.  He 
tasted  of  the  mess  tentatively. 

"By  Hen!"  he  exclaimed,  and  he  set  upon  the  stew  as 
if  half  starved,  while  Rhoda  watched  him  complacently. 


216  THE  HEART  OF  THE  DESERT 

Seeing  him  apparently  thus  engrossed,  Kut-Ie  turned 
to  speak  to  Alchise.  Instantly  Porter  dropped  the  stew, 
drew  a  revolver  and  fired  two  rapid  shots,  one  catching 
Alchise  in  the  leg,  the  other  Injun  Tom.  Before  he 
could  get  Kut-le  the  young  Indian  was  upon  him. 

"Run,  Rhoda,  run!"  yelled  Porter,  as  he  went  down, 
under  Kut-le. 

Rhoda  gave  one  glance  at  Injun  Tom  and  Alchise 
writhing  with  their  wounds,  at  Porter's  fingers  tightening 
at  Kut-le's  throat,  then  she  seized  the  canteen  she  had 
filled  for  Porter  and  started  madly  down  the  trail.  The 
screaming  squaws  gave  no  heed  to  her. 

She  ran  swiftly,  surely,  down  the  rocky  way,  watching 
the  trail  with  secondary  sense,  for  every  other  was 
strained  to  catch  the  sounds  from  above.  But  she 
heard  nothing  but  the  screams  of  the  squaws.  The  trail 
twisted  violently  near  the  desert  floor.  She  sped  about 
one  last  jutting  buttress,  then  stopped  abruptly,  one 
hand  on  her  heaving  breast. 

A  man  was  running  toward  the  foot  of  the  trail.  He, 
too,  stopped  abruptly.  The  girl  seemed  a  marvel  of 
beauty  to  him.  With  the  curly  hair  beneath  the  droop- 
ing sombrero,  the  tanned,  flushed  face,  the  parted  scarlet 
lips,  the  throat  and  tiny  triangle  of  chest  disclosed  by  the 
rough  blue  shirt  with  one  button  missing  from  the  top, 
and  the  beautiful  lithe  legs  in  the  clinging  buckskins, 


AN  ESCAPE  217 

Rhoda  was  a  wonderful  thing  to  come  upon  unexpect- 
edly. As  John  DeWitt  took  off  his  hat,  his  haggard  face 
went  white,  his  stalwart  shoulders  heaved. 

"O  John!  Dear  John  DeWitt!"  cried  Rhoda.  "Turn 
back  with  me  quick!  I  am  running  away  while  Mr. 
Porter  holds  Kut-le!'* 

DeWitt  held  out  his  shaking  hands  to  her,  unbelieving 
rapture  growing  in  his  eyes. 


^:hapter  XVI 


ADRIFT  IN   THE   DESERT 


"DHODA  put  her  hands  into  the  outstretched,  shaking 
palms. 

"Rhoda!  Sweetheart!  Sweetheart!"  DeWitt  gasped. 
Then  his  voice  failed  him. 

For  an  instant  Rhoda  leaned  against  his  heaving  chest. 
She  felt  as  if  after  long  wandering  in  a  dream  she  suddenly 
had  stepped  back  into  life.  But  it  was  only  for  the 
instant  that  she  paused.  Her  face  was  blazing  with 
excitement. 

" Come!"  she  cried.     " Come!" 

"Take  my  arm!  Or  had  I  better  carry  you?"  ex- 
claimed DeWitt. 

"Huh!"  sniffed  Rhoda.  "Just  try  to  keep  up  with 
me,  that's  all!" 

DeWitt,  despite  the  need  for  haste,  stopped  and  stared 
at  the  girl,  open-mouthed.  Then  as  he  realized  what 
superb  health  she  showed  in  every  line  of  face  and  body, 
he  cried: 

"You  are  well!    You  are  well!    O  Rhoda,  I  never 

thought  to  see  you  this  way!" 

219 


£20  THE  HEART  OF  THE  DESERT 

Rhoda  squeezed  his  fingers  joyfully. 

"I  am  so  strong!    Hurry,  John!    Hurry!*' 

"Where  are  the  Indians?"  panted  DeWitt,  running 
along  beside  her.     "What  were  those  shots?" 

"Billy  Porter  found  our  camp.  He  shot  Alchise  and 
Injun  Tom  and  he  and  Kut-le  were  wrestling  as  I  ran." 
Then  Rhoda  hesitated.  "Perhaps  you  ought  to  go  back 
and  help  Billy!" 

But  John  pulled  her  ahead. 

"Leave  you  until  I  get  you  to  safety?  Why,  Billy 
himself  would  half  murder  me  if  I  thought  of  it!  Our 
camp  is  over  there,  a  three  hours*  trip."  DeWitt  pointed 
to  a  distant  peak.  "  If  we  swing  around  to  the  left,  the 
Indians  won't  see  us!" 

Hand  in  hand  the  two  settled  to  a  swinging  trot.  The 
dreadful  fear  of  pursuit  was  on  them  both.  It  submerged 
their  first  joy  of  meeting,  and  left  them  panic-stricken. 
For  many  minutes  they  ran  without  speaking.  At  last, 
when  well  out  into  the  burning  heat  of  the  desert,  they 
could  keep  up  the  pace  no  longer  and  dropped  to  a  rapid 
walk.     Still  there  came  no  sound  of  pursuit. 

"Was  Porter  hurt?"  panted  John. 

"Not  when  I  left,"  answered  Rhoda. 

"I  wonder  what  his  plan  is?"  said  john.  "He  left 
the  camp  yesterday  to  trail  Injun  Tom.  We'll  go  back 
for  him  as  quick  as  I  can  get  you  to  camp." 


ADRIFT  IN  THE  DESERT  221 

Rhoda  looked  up  at  DeWitt  anxiously. 

"You  are  very  tired  and  worn,  John,"  she  said. 

"And  you!"  cried  the  man,  looking  down  at  the  girl 
with  the  swinging,  tireless  stride.  "  What  miracle  has 
come  to  you?" 

"I  never  dreamed  that  there  could  be  health  like  this? 
I—"  She  stopped,  with  head  to  one  side.  "Do  you 
hear  anything?  What  do  you  suppose  they  are  doiag 
to  each  other?  Oh,  I  hope  neither  of  them  will  get 
killed!" 

"I  hope —  They  have  all  promised  to  let  me  deal 
with  Kut-le!"  said  DeWitt  grimly,  pausing  to  listen  in- 
tently.    But  no  sound  came  across  the  burning  sands. 

Rhoda  started  at  DeWitt^s  words.  Suddenly  her  early 
sense  of  the  appalling  nature  of  her  experience  returned 
to  her.  She  looked  with  new  eyes  at  DeWitt*s  face.  It 
was  not  the  same  face  that  she  had  last  seen  at  the 
Newman  ranch.  John  had  the  look  of  a  man  who  has 
passed  through  the  fire  of  tragedy.  She  gripped  his 
burned  fingers  with  both  her  slender  hands. 

"O  John!"  she  cried,  "I  wasn't  worth  it!  I  wasn't 
worth  it!  Let's  get  to  the  camp  quickly,  so  that  you  can 
rest!  It  would  take  a  lifetime  of  devotion  to  make  up 
5or  that  look  in  your  face!" 

yoi!in''s  quiet  manner  left  him. 

"  It  was  a  devilish  thing  for  him  to  do!"  he  said  fiercely. 


222  THE  HEART  OF  THE  DESERT 

"  Heaven  help  him  when  I  get  him !"  Then  before  Rhoda 
could  speak  he  smiled  grimly.  "This  pace  is  fearful. 
If  you  keep  it  up  you  will  have  sunstroke,  Rhoda.  And 
at  that,  you're  standing  it  better  than  I!" 

They  slowed  their  pace.  DeWitt  was  breathing  hard 
as  the  burning  lava  dust  bit  into  his  throat. 

"I  haven't  minded  the  physical  discomfort,"  he  went 
on.  "It's  the  mental  torture  that's  been  killing  me. 
We've  pushed  hot  on  your  trail  hour  after  hour,  day  in 
and  day  out.  When  they  made  me  rest,  I  could  only  lie 
and  listen  to  you  sob  for  help  until — O  my  love!  My 
love!—" 

His  voice  broke  and  Rhoda  laid  her  cheek  against  his 
arm  for  a  moment. 

"  I  know!     O  John  dear,  I  know!"  she  whispered. 

They  trudged  on  in  silence  for  a  time,  both  listening 
for  the  sound  of  pursuit.  Then  DeWitt  spoke,  as  if  he 
forced  himself  to  ask  for  an  answer  that  he  dreaded. 

"Rhoda,  did  they  torture  you  much?" 

"No!  There  was  no  torture  except  that  of  fearful 
hardships.  At  first — you  know  how  weak  and  sick  I 
was,  John — at  first  I  just  lived  in  an  agony  of  fear  and 
anger — sort  of  a  nightmare  of  exhaustion  and  frenzy. 
Then  at  Chira  I  began  to  get  strong  and  as  my  health 
came,  the  wonder  of  it,  the — oh,  I  can't  put  it  into  words! 
Kut-Ie  was — "     Rhoda  paused,  wondering  at  the  reluc- 


ADRIFT  IN  THE  DESERT  223 

tance  with  which  she  spoke  the  young  Indian^s  name. 
"You  missed  us  so  narrowly  so  many  times!" 

"The  Indian  had  the  devil's  own  luck  and  we  always 
blundered,"  said  DeWitt.  "I  have  had  the  feeling 
lately  that  my  bones  would  be  bleaching  on  this  stretch 
of  Hades  before  you  ever  were  heard  of.  Rhoda,  if  I 
can  get  you  safely  to  New  York  again  I'll  shoot  the  first 
man  who  says  desert  to  me!" 

Rhoda  became  strangely  silent,  though  she  clung  to 
John's  hand  and  now  and  again  lifted  it  against  her 
cheek.  The  yellow  of  the  desert  reeled  in  heat  waves 
about  them.  The  deep,  intensely  deep  blue  of  the  sky 
glowed  silently  down  on  them.  Never  to  see  them 
again!  Never  to  waken  with  the  desert  stars  above  her 
face  or  to  make  camp  with  the  crimson  dawn  blinding 
her  vision!  Never  to  know  again  the  wild  thrill  of  the 
chase!  Finally  Rhoda  gave  herself  a  mental  shake  and 
looked  up  into  John's  tired  face. 

"How  did  you  come  to  leave  the  camp,  John?"  she 
asked  gently. 

"  It's  all  been  luck,"  said  John.  "  With  the  exception 
of  a  little  trail  wisdom  that  Billy  or  Carlos  raked  up  once 
in  a  while  it's  just  been  hit-or-miss  luck  with  us.  We 
suspected  that  Billy  had  gone  on  Injun  Tom's  trail,  so  we 
made  camp  on  the  spot  so  he  wouldn't  lose  us.  I  stood 
guard  this  morning  while  Jack  and  Carlos  slept  and  then 


224  THE  HEART  OF  THE  DESERT 

I  thought  that  that  was  fool  nonsense,  as  Kut-le  never 
traveled  by  day.  So  I  started  on  a  hunt  along  Billy's 
trail — and  here  we  are!" 

"  Are  there  any  other  people  hunting  for  me  ?" 

"Lord,  yes!  At  first  they  were  fairly  walking  over 
each  other.  But  the  ranchers  had  to  go  back  to  their  work 
and  the  curious  got  tired.  Most  of  those  that  are  left 
are  down  along  the  Mexican  border.  They  thought  of 
course  that  Kut-le  would  get  ofif  American  territory  as 
soon  as  he  could.  Must  we  keep  such  a  pace,  Rhoda 
girl?  You  will  be  half  dead  before  we  can  reach  the 
camp !" 

Rhoda  smiled. 

"I've  followed  Kut-le's  tremendous  pace  so  many 
miles  that  I  doubt  if  I  shall  ever  walk  like  a  perfect 
lady  again !" 

"I  thought  that  I  would  go  off  my  head,"  DeWitt 
went  on,  dropping  into  a  walk,  "  when  I  saw  you  there 
at  Dead  Man's  Mesa  and  you  escaped  into  that  infer- 
nal crevice!  Gee,  Rhoda,  I  can't  believe  that  this  really 
is  you!" 

The  sun  was  setting  as  they  climbed  through  a  wide 
stretch  of  greasewood  to  the  first  rough  rock  heaps  of 
the  mountains.     Then  DeWitt  paused  uncertainly. 

"Why,  this  isn't  right!    I  never  was  here  before!'* 

Rhoda  spoke  cheerfully. 


ADRIFT  IN  THE  DESERT  225 

"Perhaps  you  have  the  right  mountain  but  the  wrong 
trail  r^ 

"No!  This  is  altogether  wrong.  I  remember  this 
peak  now,  with  a  sort  of  saw  edge  to  the  top.  What  a 
chump  I  am!  I  distinctly  remember  seeing  this  moun- 
tain from  the  trail  this  morning." 

"How  did  it  lie?"  asked  Rhoda,  sitting  down  on  a 
convenient  stone. 

"Gee,  I  can't  remember  whether  to  the  right  or  left!" 

Rhoda  clasped  and  unclasped  her  hands  nervously. 

"  I  hate  to  stop.     One  can't  tell  what  Kut-le  is  up  to !" 

DeWitt  squared  his  broad  shoulders. 

"  Don't  you  worry,  little  girl.  If  he  does  find  us  he'll 
have  to  take  us  both !  We'll  just  have  to  rest  here  for  a 
moment.  There's  no  use  starting  till  we  have  our  sense 
of  direction  again." 

Rhoda  raised  her  eyebrows.  After  all  the  fearful 
lessons,  DeWitt  had  not  yet  come  to  a  full  realization  of 
the  skill  and  resourcefulness  of  Kut-le.  The  girl  said 
nothing,  however,  but  left  the  leadership  to  DeWitt. 
The  sun  was  setting,  turning  to  clear  red  and  pale  laven- 
der a  distant  peak  that  then  merged  with  the  dusk,  one 
could  not  tell  when  nor  how.  Rhoda  and  DeWitt  sat  at 
the  foot  of  an  inhospitable  crag  whose  distant  top,  baring 
itself  to  the  heavens,  was  a  fearful  climb  above  them. 
Rhoda  watched  the  sunset  a  little  wistfully.     She  must 

15 


226  THE  HEART  OF  THE  DESERT 

impress  on  her  memory  every  one  that  she  saw  now. 
She  felt  that  her  days  in  the  desert  were  numbered 

DeWitt  shook  his  empty  canteen. 

"  It  was  mighty  clever  of  you  to  bring  a  canteen.  WeVe 
got  to  be  careful  of  the  water  question.  Of  course,  I'm 
confident  we  will  reach  camp  this  evening,  but  you  can't 
be  too  careful  of  water  anyhow.  Lord !  Think  of  Jack 
Newman's  face  when  we  come  strolling  in!  We  ought 
to  be  back  at  the  ranch  in  five  days." 

"Do  you  know  it's  going  to  be  strange  to  talk  with 
Katherine!"  exclaimed  Rhoda.  "She's  a  white  woman, 
you  know!" 

DeWitt  took  both  of  Rhoda's  brown  little  hands  in  his. 

"I'm  not  appearing  very  sympathetic,  sweetheart,'* 
he  said.  "  But  I'm  so  crazy  with  joy  at  having  you  again 
and  of  finding  you  so  well  that  I  don't  know  what  I'm 
saying." 

"John,"  said  Rhoda  slowly,  "I  don't  need  any  sym- 
pathy! I  tell  you  that  this  has  been  the  most  wonderful 
experience  that  ever  came  into  my  life.  I  have  suffered !" 
Her  voice  trembled  and  John's  hold  on  her  hands  tight- 
ened. "God  only  knows  how  I  have  suffered!  But  I 
have  learned  things  that  were  worth  the  misery!" 

DeWitt  looked  at  her  wide-eyed. 

"You're  a  wonder!"  he  exclaimed. 

Rhoda  laughed  softly. 


ADRIFT  IN  THE  DESERT  227 

"You  ought  to  hear  the  Indians*  opinion  of  me!  Do 
you  know  what  I've  thought  of  lots  of  times  lately  ?  You 
know  that  place  on  the  Hudson  where  men  go  when  they 
are  nervous  wrecks  and  the  doctor  cures  them  by  grilling 
them  mentally  and  physically  clear  beyond  endurance? 
Well,  that's  the  sort  of  cure  I've  had,  except  that  I've 
had  two  doctors,  the  Indian  and  the  desert!" 

DeWitt  answered  slowly. 

"I  don't  quite  see  it!  But  I  know  one  thing.  You 
are  about  the  gamest  little  thoroughbred  I  ever  heard  of!" 

The  moon  was  rising  and  DeWitt  watched  Rhoda  as 
she  sat  with  her  hands  clasping  her  knee  in  the  boyish 
attitude  that  had  become  a  habit. 

"You  are  simply  fascinating  in  those  clothes,  Rhoda. 
You  are  like  a  beautiful  slender  boy  in  them." 

"They  are  very  comfortable,"  said  Rhoda,  in  such  a 
sedate  matter-of-fact  tone  despite  her  blush  that  DeWitt 
chuckled.  He  threw  his  arm  across  her  shoulder  and 
hugged  her  to  him  ecstatically. 

"Rhoda!  Rhoda!  You  are  the  finest  ever!  I  can't 
believe  that  this  terrible  nightmare  is  over!  And  to  think 
that  instead  of  finding  you  all  but  dead,  you  are  a  thou- 
sand times  more  fit  than  I  am  myself.  Rhoda,  just  think ! 
You  are  going  to  live!  To  live!  You  will  not  be  my 
wife  just  for  a  few  months,  as  we  thought,  but  for  years 
and  years!" 


£28  THE  HEART  OF  THE  DESERT 

They  stood  in  silence  for  a  time,  each  one  busy 
with  the  picture  De Witt's  words  had  conjured.  Then 
DeWitt  emptied  the  pipe  he  had  been  smoking. 

"Yonder  is  our  peak,  by  Jove!  It  looked  just  so  in 
the  moonlight  last  night.  I  didn't  recognize  it  by  day- 
light. If  you're  rested,  we'll  start  now.  You  must  be 
dead  hungry!    I  know  I  am!" 

Refreshed  and  hopeful,  they  swung  out  into  the  wonder 
of  the  moonlit  desert.  They  soon  settled  to  each  other's 
pace  and  with  the  full  moon  glowing  in  their  faces  they 
made  for  the  distant  peak. 

"Now,"  said  John,  "tell  me  the  whole  story!" 

So  Rhoda,  beginning  with  the  moment  of  her  abduction, 
told  the  story  of  her  wanderings,  told  it  simply  though 
omitting  no  detail.  Nothing  could  have  been  more 
dramatic  than  the  quiet  voice  that  now  rose,  now  fell 
with  intensity  of  feeling.  DeWitt  did  not  interrupt  her 
except  with  a  muttered  exclamation  now  and  again. 

"And  the  actual  sickness  was  not  the  worst,"  Rhoda 
continued  after  describing  her  experiences  up  to  her 
sickness  at  Chira;  "it  was  the  delirium  of  fear  and  anger. 
Kut-le  forced  me  beyond  the  limit  of  my  strength. 
Night  after  night  I  was  tied  to  the  saddle  and  kept  there 
till  I  fainted.  Then  I  was  rested  only  enough  to  start 
again.  And  it  angered  and  frightened  me  so!  I  was  so 
sick!    I  loathed  them  all  so — except  Molly.    But  after 


ADRIFT  IN  THE  DESERT  229 

Chira  a  change  came.  I  got  stronger  than  I  ever  dreamed 
of  being.  And  I  began  to  understand  Kut-le's  methods. 
He  had  realized  that  physically  and  mentally  I  was  at  the 
lowest  ebb  and  that  only  heroic  measures  could  save  me. 
He  had  the  courage  to  apply  the  measures." 

"God!"  muttered  John. 

Rhoda  scarcely  heeded  him. 

"  It  was  then  that  I  began  to  see  things  that  I  could  not 
see  before  and  to  think  thoughts  that  I  could  not  have 
thought  before.  It  was  as  if  I  had  climbed  a  mental  peak 
that  made  my  old  highest  ideals  seem  like  mere  foothills!" 

The  quiet  voice  led  on  and  on,  stopping  at  last  with 
Porter's  advent  that  afternoon.  Then  Rhoda  looked  up 
into  De Witt's  face.  It  was  drawn  and  tense.  His  eyes 
were  black  with  feeling  and  his  close-pressed  lips  twitched. 

"Rhoda,"  he  said  at  la  t,  "I  thought  most  of  the  sav- 
age had  been  civilized  out  of  me.  But  I  tell  you  now  that 
if  ever  I  get  a  chance  I  shall  kill  that  Apache  with  my  bare 
hands!" 

Rhoda  laid  her  hand  on  DeWitt's  arm. 

"Kut-le,  after  all,  has  done  me  only  a  great  good, 
John!" 

"But  think  how  he  did  it!  The  devil  risked  killing 
you!  Think  what  you  and  we  all  have  suffered!  God, 
Rhoda,  think!"  And  DeWitt  threw  his  arm  across  his 
face  with  a  sob  that  wrenched  his  shoulders. 


230  THE  HEART  OF  THE  DESERT 

Inexpressibly  touched,  Rhoda  stopped  and  drew  John's 
face  down  to  hers,  rubbing  it  softly  with  her  velvet  cheek. 

"There,  dear,  there!  I  can't  bear  to  see  you  so!  My 
poor  tired  boy !    You  have  all  but  killed  yourself  for  me !" 

DeWitt  lifted  the  slender  little  figure  and  held  it  tensely 
in  his  arms  a  moment,  then  set  her  gently  down. 

"A  woman's  magnanimity  is  a  strange  thing,"  he  said. 

"Kut-le  will  suffer,"  said  Rhoda.  "He  risked  every- 
thing and  has  lost.  He  has  neither  friends  nor  country 
now." 

"Much  he  cares,"  retorted  DeWitt,  "except  for  losing 
you!" 

Rhoda  made  no  answer.  She  realized  that  it  would 
take  careful  pleading  on  her  part  to  win  freedom  for 
Kut-le  if  ever  he  were  caught.     She  changed  the  subject. 

"  Have  you  found  living  off  the  desert  hard  ?  I  mean 
as  far  as  food  was  concerned  ?" 

"Food  hasn't  bothered  us,"  answered  John.  "We've 
kept  well  supplied." 

Rhoda  chuckled. 

"Then  I  can't  tempt  you  to  stop  and  have  some  roast 
mice  with  me  ?" 

"Thank  you,"  answered  DeWitt.  "Try  and  control 
your  yearning  for  them,  honey  girl.  We  shall  be  at  camp 
shortly  and  have  some  white  man's  grub." 

"  How  long  since  you  have  eaten,  John  ?"  asked  Rhoda. 


ADRIFT  IN  THE  DESERT  231 

She  had  been  watching  the  tall  fellow's  difficult  and 
slacking  steps  for  some  time. 

"  Well,  not  since  last  night,  to  tell  the  truth.  You  see 
I  was  so  excited  when  I  struck  Porter's  trail  that  I  didn't 
go  back  to  the  camp.    I  just  hiked." 

"So  you  are  faint  with  hunger,"  said  Rhoda,  "and 
your  feet  are  blistered,  fc  r  you  have  done  little  tramping 
in  the  hot  sand  before  this.  John,  look  at  that  peak! 
Are  you  sure  it  is  the  right  one?" 

DeWitt  stared  long  and  perplexedly. 

"Rhoda  girl,"  he  said,  "I  don't  believe  it  is,  after  all. 
I  am  the  blamedest  tenderfoot!  But  don't  you  worry. 
We  will  find  the  camp.     It's  right  in  this  neighborhood." 


CHAPTER  XVII 

THE  heart's  own  BITTERNESS 

"T'M  not  worrying,"  answered  Rhoda  stoutly,  "except 
about  you.  You  are  shaking  with  exhaustioa 
while  I  am  as  fit  as  can  be." 

"  Oh,  don't  bother  about  me!"  exclaimed  John.  "  Vm 
just  a  little  tired." 

But  Rhoda  was  not  to  be  put  off. 

"  How  much  did  you  sleep  last  night  ?" 

"Not  much,"  admitted  DeWitt.  "I  haven't  been  a 
heavy  sleeper  at  times  ever  since  you  disappeared,  strange 
as  that  may  seem!"  Then  he  grinned.  It  was  pleasant 
to  have  Rhoda  bully  him. 

Yet  the  big  fellow  actually  was  sinking  with  weariness. 
The  fearful  hardships  that  he  had  undergone  had  worked 
havoc  with  him.  Now  that  the  agonizing  nerve-strain 
was  lifted  he  was  going  to  pieces.  He  stood  wavering 
for  a  minute,  then  he  slowly  sat  down  in  the  sand. 

Rhoda  stood  beside  him  uncertainly  and  looked  from 

the  man  to  the  immovabl>  distant  mountain  peak.    She 

realized  that,  in  stopping,  the  risk  of  recapture  was  great, 

233 


234  THE  HEART  OF  THE  DESERT 

yet  her  desert  experiences  told  her  that  John  must  regain 
some  of  his  strength  before  the  sun  caught  them.  She 
had  little  faith  that  they  would  tumble  upon  the  camp  as 
easily  as  John  thought,  and  wanted  to  prepare  for  a  day 
of  desert  heat 

"  If  we  were  sure  just  where  the  camp  lay,"  she  said, 
"  I  would  go  on  for  help.  But  as  we  aren't  certain,  I'm 
afraid  to  be  separated  from  you,  John." 

John  looked  up  fiercely  with  his  haggard  eyes. 

"  Don't  you  dare  to  move  six  inches  from  me,  Rhoda. 
It  will  kill  me  to  lose  you  now." 

"Of  course  I  won't,"  said  Rhoda.  "I've  had  my 
lesson  about  losing  myself  in  the  desert.  But  you  must 
have  some  sleep  before  we  go  any  farther." 

Rhoda  spoke  with  a  cheerfulness  she  did  not  feel.  She 
looked  about  for  a  comfortable  resting-place  but  the 
desert  was  barren. 

"There's  no  use  trying  to  find  a  comfortable  bed," 
she  said.     "  You  had  better  lie  down  right  where  you  are. " 

"Honey,"  said  John,  "I've  no  idea  of  sleeping.  It 
will  be  time  enough  for  that  when  we  reach  camp.  But 
if  you  think  you  could  stand  guard  for  just  ten  minutes 
I  will  lie  flat  in  the  sand  and  rest.  You  take  my  watch 
and  time  me." 

"That's  splendid!"  said  Rhoda,  helping  him  to  clear 
of  rocks  and  cactus  a  space  long  enough  to  lie  in. 


THE  HEART'S  OWN  BITTERNESS        235 

•*  Just  ten  minutes,"  said  DeWitt,  and  as  he  spoke  he 
sank  to  sleep. 

Rhoda  stood  in  the  moonlight  looking  into  the  man's 
unconscious  face.  His  new-grown  beard  gave  him  a 
haggard  look  that  was  enhanced  by  the  dark  circles 
under  his  eyes.  That  wan  face  touched  Rhoda  much 
more  than  the  healthy  face  of  former  days.  The  lines  of 
weariness  and  pain  that  never  could  be  fully  erased  were 
all  for  her,  she  thought  with  a  little  catch  of  her  breath. 
Then  with  a  pitying,  affectionate  look  at  the  sleeping 
man  came  a  whimsical  smile.  Once  she  had  thought 
no  one  could  equal  John  in  physical  vigor.  Now  she 
pictured  Kut-le's  panther  strength  and  endurance,  and 
smiled. 

She  looked  at  the  watch.  Five  hours  till  dawn.  She 
would  let  John  have  the  whole  of  that  time  in  which  to 
sleep.  His  ten  minutes  would  be  worse  than  useless, 
while  to  find  the  camp  after  the  moon  had  set  would  be 
quite  out  of  the  question.  Her  own  eyes  were  wide  and 
sleepless.  She  sat  in  the  sand  beside  DeWitt  until 
driven  by  the  cold  to  pace  back  and  forth.  John  slept 
without  stirring;  the  sleep  of  complete  exhaustion. 
Rhoda  was  not  afraid,  nor  did  she  feel  lonely.  The 
desert  was  hers  now.  There  was  no  wind,  but  now  and 
again  the  cactus  rustled  as  if  unseen  wings  had  brushed 
it.    The  dried  heaps  of  cholla  stirred  as  if  unseen  paws 


2S6  THE  HEART  OF  THE  DESERT 

had  pressed  them.  From  afar  came  the  demoniacal 
laughter  of  coyotes  on  their  night  hunts.  But  still 
Rhoda  was  not  afraid. 

At  first,  in  the  confusion  of  thoughts  that  the  day's 
events  had  crowded  on  her,  her  clearest  sense  was  of 
thankfulness.  Then  she  fell  to  wondering  what  had 
happened  to  Porter  and  Kut-le.  Suddenly  she  caught 
her  breath  with  a  shiver.  If  Porter  won  there  could  be 
but  one  answer  as  to  Kut-le's  fate.  John's  attitude 
of  mind  told  that.     Rhoda  twisted  her  hands  together. 

"I  will  not  have  him  killed!"  she  whispered.  "No! 
No!    I  will  not  have  him  killed!" 

For  many  minutes  she  paced  back  and  forth,  battling 
with  her  fears.  Then  she  suddenly  recalled  the  fact  that 
vengeance  was  to  be  saved  for  John.  This  uncanny 
thought  comforted  her.  She  had  little  fear  but  that  she 
could  manage  John. 

And  then  In  the  utter  silence  of  the  desert  night,  staring 
at  the  sinking  moon,  Rhoda  asked  herself  why,  when  she 
should  have  been  mad  with  joy  over  her  own  rescue,  she 
was  giving  all  her  thoughts  to  Kut^e's  plight!  For  a 
moment  the  question  brought  a  flood  of  confusion. 
Then,  standing  alone  in  the  night  beauty  of  the  desert, 
the  girl  acknowledged  the  truth  that  she  had  denied  even 
to  herself  so  long.  The  young  Indian's  image  returned 
to  her  endowed  with  all  the  dign'ty  of  his  remarkable 


THE  HEART'S  OWN  BITTERNESS       237 

physical  perfection.  She  knew  now  that  from  the  first 
this  physical  beauty  of  his  had  had  a  strong  appeal  to  her. 
She  knew  now  that  all  his  unusual  characteristics  that  at 
first  had  seemed  so  strange  to  her  were  the  ones  that  had 
drawn  her  to  him.  His  strange  mental  honesty,  his 
courage,  his  brutal  incisiveness,  all  had  fascinated  her. 
All  her  days  with  him  returned  to  her,  days  of  weakn-^ss^ 
of  anger,  then  the  weeks  on  the  ledge,  and  the  day  when 
she  had  found  the  desert,  and  finally  the  day  just  past, 
to  the  very  moment  when  Billy  Porter  had  come  upon 
them  on  the  ledge. 

Rhoda  stood  with  imseeing  eyes  while  before  her  inward 
vision  passed  a  magnificent  panorama  of  the  glories 
through  which  Kut-le  had  led  her.  Chaos  of  mountain 
and  desert,  resplendent  with  color;  cool,  sweet  depth  of 
canon;  burning  height  of  tortured  peak;  slope  of  pun- 
gent pifion  forest — ^all  wrapped  in  the  haze  which  is  the 
desert's  own. 

Rhoda  knew  the  truth;  knew  that  she  loved  Kut-le! 
She  knew  that  she  loved  him  with  all  the  passionate 
devotion  for  which  her  rebirth  had  given  her  the  capacity. 

With  this  acknowledgment,  all  her  calm  was  swept 
away.  With  fingers  clasped  against  her  breast,  with  wide 
eyes  on  the  brooding  night,  she  wished  that  she  might 
tell  him  this  that  had  come  to  her.  If  only  once  more  the 
inscrutable  tenderness  of  his  black  eyes  were  upon  her! 


Ji38  THE  HEART  OF  THE  DESERT 

If  the  deep  imperative  voice  were  but  sounding  in  her 
ears  again!  If  only  she  could  feel  now  the  touch  of 
his  powerful  arms  as  he  carried  her  the  long  sick  miles 
to  Chira.  Trembling  with  longing,  her  gaze  fell  upon  the 
man  sleeping  at  her  feet.  She  drew  a  sudden  troubled 
breath.  Must  she  renounce  this  new  rapture  of  living? 
Must  she  ? 

"Have  I  found  new  life  in  the  desert  only  to  lose  it?" 
she  whispered.     "  O  Kut-le !    Kut-le !" 

DeWitt  slept  on,  unmoving,  and  Rhoda  watched  him 
with  tragedy-stricken  eyes. 

"What  shall  I  do!'*  she  whispered,  lips  quivering, 
shaking  hands  twisting  together.  "Oh,  what  shall  I 
do!" 

She  tried  to  picture  a  future  with  Kut-le.  She  saw  his 
tenderness,  his  purposefulness,  the  bigness  of  his  mind 
and  spirit.  Then  with  a  cold  clutch  at  her  throat  came 
the  thought  of  race  barrier,  and  in  a  moment  Rhoda  was 
plunged  into  the  oldest,  the  most  hopeless,  the  least 
solvable  of  all  love's  problems.  Minute  after  minute 
went  by  and  the  girl,  standing  by  the  sleeping  man, 
fought  a  fight  that  shook  her  slender  body  and  racked 
her  soul.    At  last  she  raised  her  face  to  the  sky. 

"I  want  to  do  what  is  right!"  she  said  piteously.  "It 
doesnH  matter  about  me,  if  only  I  can  decide  what  is 
right!"    Then  after  a  pause,  "I  will  marry  John!    I 


THE  HEART'S  OWN  BITTERNESS       239 

will!"  like  a  child  that  has  been  punished  and  promises 
to  be  good.  Still  another  pause,  then,  *^So  that  part  of 
me  is  dead!"  and  she  put  her  fingers  before  her  eyes  and 
fell  to  crying,  not  with  the  easy  tears  of  a  woman  but 
with  the  deep,  agonizing  sobs  of  a  man  over  his  dead. 

"Kut-le,  I  wanted  you!  I  wanted  you  for  my  mate! 
If  I  could  have  heard  you,  seen  you,  felt  you  once  more! 
Nothing  else  would  have  mattered.     I  wanted  you!" 

A  long  hour  passed  in  which  Rhoda  sat  in  the  sand, 
limp  and  quiescent,  as  though  all  but  wrecked  by  the 
storm  through  which  she  had  passed.  Dawn  came  at 
last.  The  air  was  pregnant  with  new  hope,  with  a  vague 
uplifting  of  sense  and  being  that  told  of  the  coming  of  a 
new  day.  The  east  quivered  with  prismatic  colors  and 
suddenly  the  sun  appeared. 

Rhoda  rose  and  stooped  over  DeWitt  to  smooth  the 
hair  back  from  his  forehead. 

'*  Come,"  she  said  softly.     "  It's  breakfast  time !" 

DeWitt  sat  up  bewildered.    Then  his  senses  returned. 

" Rhoda,"  he  exclaimed,  "what  do  you  mean  by  this !" 

Rhoda's  smile  was  a  little  wan. 

"  You  needed  the  rest  and  I  didn't !" 

DeWitt  rose  and  shook  himself  like  a  great  dog,  then 
looked  at  Rhoda  wonderingly. 

"And  you  don't  look  much  done  up!  But  you  had  no 
right  to  do  such  a  thing !     I  told  you  to  give  me  ten 


240  THE  HEART  OF  THE  DESERT 

minutes.  I  feel  like  a  brute.  Lie  down  now  and  get  a 
little  sleep  yourself." 

'Lie  in  the  sun?  Thank  you,  I'd  rather  push  on  to 
ttie  camp  and  have  some  breakfast.     How  do  you  feel  ?'' 

"Much  better!  It  was  fine  of  you,  dear,  but  it  wasn't 
a  fair  deal." 

"I'll  be  good  from  now  on!"  said  Rhoda  meekly. 
"What  would  you  like  for  breakfast?" 

DeWitt  looked  about  him.  Already  the  desert  was 
assuming  its  brazen  aspect. 

"Water  will  be  enough  for  me,"  he  answered,  "and 
nothing  else.  I  am  seriously  considering  a  rigid  diet  for  a 
time." 

They  both  drank  sparingly  of  the  water  in  Rhoda's 
canteen. 

"I  have  three  shots  in  my  Colt,"  said  DeWitt,  "but  I 
want  to  save  them  for  an  emergency.  But  if  we  don't 
strike  camp  pretty  soon,  I'll  try  to  pot  a  jack-rabbit." 

"We  can  eat  desert  mice,"  said  Rhoda.  "I  know 
how  to  catch  and  cook  them!" 

"Heaven  forbid!"  ejaculated  DeWitt.  "Let's  start 
on  at  once,  if  you're  not  too  tired." 

So  they  began  the  day  cheerfully.  As  the  morning 
wore  on  and  they  found  no  trace  of  the  camp,  they  began 
to  watch  the  canteen  carefully.  Gradually  their  thirst 
became  so  great  that  the  desire  for  food  was  quite  secon- 


THE  HEART'S  OWN  BITTERNESS       241 

dary  to  it  and  they  made  no  attempt  to  hunt  for  a  rabbit. 
They  agreed  toward  noon  to  save  the  last  few  drops  in  the 
canteen  until  they  could  no  longer  do  without  it. 

Hour  after  hour  they  toiled  in  the  blinding  heat,  the 
strange  deep  blue  of  the  sky  reflecting  the  brazen  light  of 
the  desert.  In  their  careful  avoiding  of  the  mountain 
where  they  had  rested  at  sunset  the  night  before,  they 
gradually  worked  out  into  a  wide  barren  space  with 
dunes  and  rock  heaps  interchanging. 

"This  won't  do  at  all,'*  said  Dewitt  at  last,  wearily. 
"We  had  better  try  for  any  old  mountain  at  all  in  the 
hope  of  finding  water." 

They  stood  panting,  staring  at  the  distant  haze  of  a 
peak.  Trackless  and  tortuous,  the  way  underfoot  was 
incredibly  difficult.  Yet  the  distances  melted  in  ephe- 
meral slopes  as  lovely  in  their  tints  as  they  were  accursed 
in  their  reality  of  cruelty.  Rhoda,  unaccustomed  to  day 
travel,  panted  and  gasped  as  they  walked.  But  she  held 
her  own  fairly  well,  while  DeWitt,  sick  and  overstrained 
at  the  start,  was  failing  rapidly. 

" It's  noon  now,"  said  John  a  little  thickly.  "You  had 
better  lie  in  the  shade  of  that  rock  for  an  hour." 

"You  sleep  too!"  pleaded  Rhoda. 

"I'm  too  hot  to  sleep.    I'll  wake  you  in  an  hour." 

When  Rhoda  awoke  it  was  to  see  DeWitt  leaning 
against  the  rock  heap,  his  lips  swollen,  his  eyes  uncertain. 

16 


242  THE  HEART  OF  THE  DESERT 

Weak  and  dizzy  herself,  she  rose  and  laid  her  hand  on 
John's,  every  maternal  instinct  in  her  stirring  and  speak- 
ing in  her  gray  eyes. 

"Come,  dear  boy,  we  mustn't  give  up  so  easily." 

John  lifted  the  little  hand  to  his  cheek. 

"I  won't  give  up,"  he  said  uncertainly.  "I'll  take 
care  of  you,  honey  girl!" 

"Come  on,  then!"  said  Rhoda.  "You  see  that  queer 
bunch  of  cholla  yonder?  Let's  get  as  far  as  that  be- 
fore we  stop  again!" 

With  a  great  effort,  DeWitt  gathered  himself  together 
and,  fixing  his  eyes  on  the  fantastic  cactus  growth,  he 
plodded  desperately  through  the  sand.  At  the  cholla 
bunch,  Rhoda  pointed  to  a  jutting  lavender  rock. 

"At  that  we'll  rest  for  a  minute.     Come  on,  John!" 

John's  sick  eyes  did  not  waver  but  his  trembling  legs 
described  many  circles  in  their  journey  to  the  jutting 
rock.  Distances  were  so  many  times  what  they  seemed 
that  Rhoda's  little  scheme  carried  them  over  a  mile  of 
desert  before  DeWitt  sank  to  his  knees. 

"I'm  a  sick  man,"  he  said  huskily  as  he  fell  in  a  limp 
heap. 

Nothing  could  have  appeared  more  opportunely  than 
this  new  hardship  to  take  Rhoda's  mind  off  her  misery  of 
the  night.  Nothing  could  have  brought  John  so  near  to 
her  as  this  utter  helplessness  brought  about  through  his 


THE  HEART'S  OWN  BITTERNESS        243 

toiling  for  her.  She  looked  at  him  with  tears  of  pity  in 
her  eyes,  while  her  heart  sank  with  fright.  She  knew  the 
terrible  danger  that  menaced  them.  But  she  closed  her 
lips  firmly  and  looked  thoughtfully  at  the  mite  of  water 
that  remained  to  them.  Then  she  held  the  canteen  to 
DeWitt's  lips.  He  pushed  it  away  from  him  and  in 
another  moment  or  so  he  rose. 

Rhoda,  fastening  their  hopes  to  another  distant  cholla, 
led  the  way  on  again.  But  she  too  was  growing  a  little 
light-headed.  The  distant  cactus  danced  grotesquely 
and  black  spots  flitted  between  her  and  the  molten  iron 
over  which  her  fancy  said  they  traveled.  Suddenly  she 
laughed  crazily: 

"  'Twas  brillig,  and  the  slythy  toves 
Did  gyre  and  gimble  in  the  wabe; 
All  mimsy  were  the  borogoves, 
And  the  mome  raths  outgrabel" 

DeWitt  laughed  hoarsely. 

"That's  just  the  way  it  looks  to  me,  Rhoda.  But 
you're  just  as  crazy  as  I  am." 

Rhoda  jerked  herself  together  and  tried  to  moisten  her 
lips  with  her  swollen  tongue. 

"  We  must  take  it  turn  about.  When  you  are  crazy  I 
must  try  to  be  sane!" 

"Good  idea!"  croaked  DeWitt,  "only  I'm  crazy  all  the 
time!" 


244  THE  HEART  OF  THE  DESERT 

"'O  frabjous  day!  Calloo!  Collay* 
He  chortled  in  his  joy  I"* 

Rhoda  patted  his  hand. 

"Poor  John!  Oh,  my  poor  John!  I  was  not  worth 
all  this.  You  may  not  have  an  Apache's  strength,  but 
your  heart  is  right!"  Two  great  tears  rolled  down 
her  cheeks. 

DeWitt  looked  at  her  seriously. 

"You  aren't  as  dry  as  I  am.  I  haven't  enough  mois- 
ture in  me  to  moisten  my  eyeballs,  let  alone  cry !  I  am 
so  cracked  and  dry  that  you  will  have  to  soak  me  in  the 
first  spring  we  come  to  before  I'll  hold  water." 

Rhoda  laughed  weakly  and  John  turned  away  with  a 
hurt  look. 

"It's  not  a  joke!"  he  said. 

How  long  they  were,  in  their  staggering,  circuitous 
course,  in  reaching  their  goal  of  cholla,  Rhoda  never 
knew.  She  knew  that  each  heavy  foot,  tingling  and 
scorched,  seemed  to  drag  her  back  a  step  for  every  one 
that  she  took  forward.  She  knew  that  she  repeatedly 
offered  the  last  of  their  water  to  John  and  that  he  repeat- 
edly refused  it,  urging  it  on  her.  She  knew  that  the  pulp 
of  the  barrel  cactus  that  she  tried  to  chew  turned  to 
bitter  sawdust  in  her  mouth  and  sickened  her.  Then 
suddenly,  as  she  struggled  to  refocus  her  wandering  wits 
on  the  cholla,  it  appeared  within  touch  of  her  hand. 


THE  HEART'S  OWN  BITTERNESS       245 

Afraid  to  pause,  she  adopted  a  new  goal  in  a  far  mesa, 

and  clutching  DeWitt's  unresponsive  fingers  she  struggled 

forward. 

And  so  on  and  on  toward  a  never  nearing  goal;  now 

falling,  now  rising,  now  pausing  to  strive  to  hush  Dewitt's 

cracked  voice  that  wandered  aimlessly  through  all  the 

changes  of  verse  that  seemed  to  his  delirium  appropriate 

to  the  occasion.    It  seemed  to  Rhoda  that  her  own  brain 

was  reeling  as  she  watched  the  illimitable  space  through 

which  they  moved.     John's  voice  did  not  cease. 

"Alone!  Alone!  All,  all,  alone! 
Alone  on  a  wide,  wide  sea! 
So  lonely  'twas  that  God  himself, 
Scarce  seemdd  there  to  be!" 

"Hush,  John!    Hush!''  pleaded  Rhoda. 
"Alone!  Alone!  All,  all  alone!" 
repeated  the  croaking  voice. 

"  But  I'm  with  you,  John !"  Rhoda  pleaded,  but  DeWitt 
rambled  on  unheeding. 

The  way  grew  indescribably  rough.  The  desert  floor 
became  a  series  of  sand  dunes,  a  rise  and  fall  of  sea-like 
billows  over  which  they  climbed  like  ants  over  a  new- 
plowed  field.  In  the  hollow  of  each  wave  they  rested, 
sinking  in  the  sand,  where,  breathless  and  scorching,  the 
air  scintillated  above  their  motionless  forms.  At  the 
crest  of  each  they  rested  again,  the  desert  wind  hurtling 
the  hot  sand  against  their  parched  skins.    Frequently 


«46  THE  HEART  OF  THE  DESERT 

John  refused  to  rise  and  Rhoda  in  her  half  delirium 
would  sink  beside  him  until  the  mist  lifted  from  her  brain 
and  once  more  the  distant  mesa  forced  itself  upon  her 
vision. 

"  Come,  John,  we  will  soon  be  there.  We  can't  keep 
on  this  way  forever  and  not  reach  some  place.  Please 
come,  dear!" 

"  'He  maketh  me  to  lie  down  in  green  pastures.  He 
leadeth  me  beside  still  waters.     He  restoreth  my  soul — '  " 

"Perhaps  there  will  be  water  there!  O  John,  dear 
John,  if  you  love  me,  come!" 

"I  don't  love  you,  little  boy!    I  love  Rhoda  Tuttle. 

"  O  for  a  draught  of  vintage  that  hath  been 
Cooled  a  long  age  in  deep  delved  earth!" 

"Please,  John!    I'm  so  sick!" 

The  man,  after  two  or  three  attempts,  staggered  to  his 
feet  and  stood  swaying. 

"  God  help  me !"  he  said.     "  I  can  do  no  more !" 

"Yes,  you  can,  John!  Yes,  you  can!  Perhaps  there 
is  a  whole  fountain  of  water  there  on  the  mesa!" 

The  glazed  look  returned  to  De Witt's  eyes. 

"'Or  the  pitcher  be  broken  at  the  fountain,'  "  he 
muttered,  "  *or  the  wheel  broken  at  the  cistern — or  the 
pitcher  broken  at  the  fountain,  or  the  wheel — '  " 

Rhoda  threw  her  arm  across  her  eyes. 

"  Oh,  not  that,  John !    I  can't  bear  that  one !" 

Again  she  stood  upon  the  roof  at  Chira,  looking  up 


THE  HEART'S  OWN  BITTERNESS       247 

into  Kut-le's  face.  Again  the  low  wailing  of  the  Indian 
women  and  the  indescribable  depth  and  hunger  of  those 
dear  black  eyes.  Again  the  sense  of  protection  and 
content  in  his  nearness. 

"O  Kut-le!  Kut-le!"  she  moaned.  v 

Instantly  sanity  returned  to  John's  eyes. 

"Why  did  you  say  Kut-le?"  he  demanded  thickly. 
"  Were  you  thinking  of  him  ?" 

"Yes,"  answered  Rhoda  simply.     "Come  on,  John!" 

DeWitt  struggled  on  bravely  to  the  crest  of  the  next 
dune. 

"I  hate  that  Apache  devil!"  he  muttered.  "lam 
going  to  kill  him !" 

Rhoda  quickly  saw  the  magic  of  Kut-le's  name. 

"Why  should  you  want  to  kill  Kut-le?"  she  asked  as 
Dewitt  paused  at  the  top  of  the  next  dune.  Instantly 
he  started  on. 

"  Because  I  hate  him !    I  hate  him,  the  devil !" 

"See  how  near  the  mesa  is,  John!  Only  a  little  way? 
Kut-le  would  say  we  were  poor  stuff!" 

"  No  doubt !  Well,  I'll  let  a  gun  give  him  my  opinion 
of  him!" 

The  sand  dunes  had  indeed  beaten  themselves  out 
against  the  wall  of  a  giant  mesa.  Rhoda  followed  blindly 
along  the  wall  and  stumbled  upon  a  precipitous  trail 
leading  upward. 


CHAPTER  XVin 


FORGOTTEN  CITY 

F  Tp  this  tortuous  trail  Rhoda  staggered,  closely  followed 
by  DeWitt.    At  a  level  spot  the  girl  paused. 

"Water,  John!     Water!"  she  cried. 

The  two  threw  themselves  down  and  drank  of  the 
r)ubbling  spring  until  they  could  hold  no  more.  Then 
Rhoda  lay  down  on  the  sun- warmed  rocks  and  sleep 
overwhelmed  her. 

She  opened  her  eyes  to  stare  into  a  yellow  moon  that 
floated  liquidly  above  her.  Whether  she  had  slept 
through  a  night  and  a  day  or  whether  but  a  few  hours 
had  elapsed  since  she  had  staggered  to  the  spring  beside 
which  she  lay,  she  could  not  tell.  She  lay  looking  up 
into  the  sky  languidly,  but  with  clear  mind.  A  deep  sigk 
roused  her.  DeWitt  sat  on  the  other  side  of  the  springs 
rubbing  his  eyes. 

"Hello!"  he  said  in  a  hoarse  croaL  "How  did  we 
land  here  ?" 

"  I  led  us  here  sometime  in  past  ages.     When  or  how, 

quien  sabe?^^  answered  Rhoda.    "  John,  we  must  find  food 

somehow." 

"  Drink  all  the  water  you  can,  Rhoda,"  said  DeWitt; 

249 


250  THE  HEART  OF  THE  DESERT 

"it  helps  some,  and  I'll  pot  a  rabbit.  What  a  fool  I  am. 
You  poor  girl!    More  hardships  for  you!" 

Rhoda  dipped  her  burning  face  into  the  water,  then 
lifted  it,  dripping. 

"  If  only  you  won't  be  delirious,  John,  I  can  stand  the 
hardships." 

DeWTtt  looked  at  the  girl  curiously. 

"Was  I  delirious?  And  you  were  alone,  leading  me 
across  that  Hades  out  there  ?  Rhoda  dear,  you  make  me 
ashamed  of  myself  1" 

"  I  don't  see  how  you  were  to  blame,"  answered  Rhoda 
stoutly.     "Think  what  you  have  been  doing  for  me!" 

John  rose  stifSy. 

"Do  you  feel  equal  to  climbing  this  trail  with  me,  to 
find  where  we  are,  or  had  you  rather  stay  here  ?" 

"I  don't  want  to  stay  here  alone,"  answered  Rhoda. 

Very  slowly  and  weakly  they  started  up  the  trail.  The 
spring  was  on  a  broad  stone  terrace.  Above  it  rose 
another  terrace  weathered  and  disrupted  until  in  the 
moonlight  it  looked  like  an  impregnable  castle  wall,  em- 
battled and  embuttressed.  But  clinging  to  the  seemingly 
invulnerable  fortress  was  the  trail,  a  snake-like  shadow 
in  the  moonlight. 

"Perhaps  we  had  better  stay  at  the  spring  until  morn- 
ing," suggested  Rhoda,  her  weak  legs  flagging. 

"Not  with  the  hope  of  shelter  a  hundred  feet  above  us,'- 


THE  FORGOTTEN  CITY  251 

answered  John  firmly.  "This  trail  is  worn  six  inches 
into  the  solid  rock.  My  guess  is  that  there  are  some  in- 
habitants here.  It's  queer  that  they  haven't  discovered 
us." 

Slowly  and  without  further  protest,  Rhoda  followed 
DeWitt  up  the  trail.  Deep-worn  and  smooth  though  it 
was,  they  accomplished  their  task  with  infinite  difficulty. 
Rhoda,  stumbling  like  a  sleep-sodden  child,  wondered  if 
ever  again  she  was  to  accomplish  physical  feats  with 
the  magical  ease  with  which  Kut-le  had  endowed  her. 

"  If  he  were  here,  I'd  know  I  was  to  tumble  into  a  com- 
fortable camp,"  she  thought.  Then  with  a  remorseful 
glance  at  De Witt's  patient  back,  "What  a  selfish  beast 
you  are,  Rhoda  Tuttle!" 

She  reached  John's  side  and  together  they  paused  at  the 
top  of  the  trail.  Black  against  the  sky,  the  moon  crown- 
ing its  top  with  a  frost-like  radiance,  was  a  huge  flat- 
topped  building.  Night  birds  circled  about  it.  From 
black  openings  in  its  front  owls  hooted.  But  otherwise 
there  was  neither  sight  nor  sound  of  living  thing.  The 
desert  far  below  and  beyond  lay  like  a  sea  of  death. 
Rhoda  unconsciously  drew  nearer  to  DeWitt. 

"  Where  are  the  dogs  ?  At  Chira  the  dogs  barked  all 
night.    Indians  always  have  dogs!" 

"It  must  be  very  late,"  whispered  DeWitt.  "Even 
the  dogs  are  asleep!" 


252  THE  HEART  OF  THE  DESERT 

"And  at  Chira,"  went  on  Rhoda,  whispering  as  did 
DeWitt,  "owls  didn^t  hoot  from  the  windows." 

"Let's  go  closer,"  suggested  John. 

Rhoda  thrust  cold  little  fingers  into  his  hand. 

The  doors  were  empty  and  forlorn.  The  terraced 
walls,  built  with  the  patient  labor  of  the  long  ago,  were 
sagged  and  decayed.  Riot  of  greasewood  crowned  great 
heaps  of  d^ris.  A  loneliness  as  of  the  end  of  the  world 
came  upon  the  two  wanderers.  Sick  and  dismayed,  they 
stood  in  awe  before  this  relic  of  the  past. 

"Whoo!  Whoor  an  owFs  cry  sounded  from  the  black 
window  openings.  • 

DeWitt  spoke  softly. 

"Rhoda,  it's  one  of  the  forgotten  cities!" 

"Let's  go  back !  Let's  go  back  to  the  spring  1"  pleaded 
Rhoda.     "  It  is  so  uncanny  in  the  dark !" 

"No!"  DeWitt  rubbed  his  aching  head  wearily. 
"I  must  contrive  some  sort  of  shelter  for  you.  Almost 
anything  is  better  than  another  night  in  the  open  desert. 
Come  on !    We  will  explore  a  little." 

"Let's  wait  till  morning,"  begged  Rhoda.  "I'm  so 
cold  and  shivery." 

"Dear  sweetheart,  that's  just  the  point.  You  will  be 
sick  if  you  don't  have  some  sort  of  shelter.  You  have 
suffered  enough.  Will  you  sit  here  and  let  me  look 
about?" 


THE  FORGOTTEN  CITY  «53 

" No !  No !    I  don't  want  to  be  left  alone." 

Rhoda  followed  John  closely  up  into  the  mass  of  fallen 
rock. 

DeWitt  smiled.  It  appealed  to  the  tenderest  part  of 
his  nature  that  the  girl  who  had  led  him  through  the 
terrible  experiences  of  the  desert  should  show  fear  now 
that  a  haven  was  reached. 

"Come  on,  little  girl,"  he  said. 

Painfully,  for  they  both  were  weak  and  dizzy,  they 
clambered  to  a  gaunt  opening  in  the  gray  wall.  Rhoda 
clutched  John's  arm  with  a  little  scream  as  a  bat  whirred 
close  by  them.  Within  the  opening  DeWitt  scratched 
one  of  his  carefully  hoarded  matches.  The  tiny  flare 
revealed  a  small  adobe-walled  room,  quite  bare  save  for 
broken  bits  of  pottery  on  the  floor.  John  lighted  a 
handful  of  greasewood  and  by  its  brilliant  light  they 
examined  the  floor  and  walls. 

"What  a  clean,  dry  little  room!"  exclaimed  Rhoda. 
"  Oh,  I  am  so  tired  and  sleepy !" 

"Let's  look  a  little  farther  before  we  stop.  What's  on 
the  other  side  of  this  broken  wall  ?" 

They  picked  their  way  across  the  litter  of  pottery  and 
peered  into  another  room,  the  duplicate  of  the  first. 

"  How  will  these  do  for  our  respective  sleeping-rooms  ?" 
asked  DeWitt. 

Rhoda  stared  at  John  with  horror  in  her  eyes. 


254  THE  HEART  OF  THE  DESERT 

"  I*d  as  soon  sleep  in  a  tomb !  Let's  make  a  fire  outsidei 
and  sleep  under  the  stars.  I'd  rather  have  sleep  than 
food  just  now." 

"It  will  have  to  be  just  a  tiny  smudge,  up  behind  this 
debris,  where  Kut-le  can't  spot  it,"  answered  DeWitt. 
"I  won't  mind  having  a  red  eye  of  fire  for  company. 
It  will  help  to  keep  me  awake." 

"But  you  must  sleep,"  protested  Rhoda. 

"But  I  musn't,"  answered  John  grimly.  "I've  played 
the  baby  act  on  this  picnic  as  much  as  I  propose  to.  It 
is  my  trick  at  the  wheel." 

Too  weary  to  protest  further,  Rhoda  threw  herself 
down  with  her  feet  toward  the  fire  and  pillowed  her  head 
on  her  arm.  DeWitt  filled  his  pipe  and  sat  puffing  it, 
with  his  arms  folded  across  his  knees.  Rhoda  watched 
him  for  a  moment  or  two.  She  found  herself  admiring 
the  full  forehead,  the  lines  of  refinement  about  the  lips 
that  the  beard  could  not  fully  conceal. 

"He's  not  as  handsome  as  Kut-le,"  she  thought 
wearily,  "but  he's — ^he's — "  but  before  her  thought  was 
completed  she  was  asleep. 

Rhoda  woke  at  dawn  and  lay  waiting  for  the  stir  of  the 
squaws  about  the  morning  meal.  Then  with  a  start  she 
rose  and  looked  soberly  about  her.     Suddenly  she  smiled, 

"Tenderfoot!"  she  murmured. 

DeWitt  lay  fast  asleep  by  the  ashes  of  the  fire. 


THE  FORGOTTEN  CITY  255 

"If  Kut-le,'^  she  thought.  Then  she  stopped  abruptly 
and  stamped  her  foot.  "You  are  not  even  to  think  of 
Kut-le  any  more!"  And  with  her  deft  chin  very  firm 
she  descended  the  trail  to  the  spring.  When  she  returned, 
DeWitt  was  rising  stiffly  to  his  feet. 

"Hello!"  he  cried.  "I  was  good  this  time.  I  never 
closed  my  eyes  till  dawn.  I'm  so  hungry  I  could  eat 
grease  wood.    How  do  you  feel?" 

"  Weak  with  hunger  but  otherwise  very  well.  Go  wash 
your  face,  Johnny." 

DeWitt  grinned  and  started  down  the  trail  obediently. 
But  Rhoda  laid  a  detaining  hand  on  his  arm.  The  sun 
was  but  a  moment  high.  All  the  mesa  front  lay  in  purple 
shadows,  though  farther  out  the  desert  glowed  with 
the  yellow  light  of  a  new  day. 

"I  think  animals  come  to  the  spring  to  drink,"  said 
Rhoda.  "There  were  tiny  wet  footmarks  there  when  I 
went  down  to  wash  my  face." 

"Bully!"  exclaimed  John.     "Wait  now,  let's  watch." 

The  two  dropped  to  the  ground  and  peered  over  the 
edge  of  the  upper  terrace.  The  spring  bubbled  forth 
serenely,  followed  its  shallow  trough  a  short  distance, 
then  disappeared  into  the  insatiable  floor  of  the  desert. 
For  several  moments  the  two  lay  watching  until  at  last 
Rhoda  grew  restless.  DeWitt  laid  a  detaining  hand  on 
her  arm. 


it56  THE  HEART  OF  THE  DESERT 

**Hush!"  he  whispered. 

A  pair  of  jack-rabbits  loped  up  the  trail,  sniffed  the  aif 
tentatively,  then  with  forelegs  in  the  water  drank  greedily. 
DeWitt's  right  arm  stiffened,  there  were  two  puffs  of 
smoke  and  the  two  kicking  rabbits  rolled  into  the 
spring. 

"I'm  beginning  to  have  a  little  self-respect  as  the  man 
of  the  party,"  said  DeWitt,  as  he  blew  the  smoke  from 
his  Colt. 

Rhoda  ran  down  to  the  spring  and  lifted  the  two  wet 
little  bodies.     John  took  them  from  her. 

"If  you'll  find  some  place  for  a  table,  I'll  bring  these 
up  in  no  time." 

When  DeWitt  came  up  from  the  spring  with  the  dressed 
rabbits,  he  found  a  little  fire  glowing  between  two  rocks. 
Near  by  on  a  big  fiat-topped  stone  were  set  forth  two 
earthen  bowls,  with  a  brown  water-jar  in  the  center. 
As  he  stared,  Rhoda  came  out  of  the  building  with 
interested  face. 

"Look,  John!  See  what  I  found  on  a  little  corner 
shelf!"  She  held  in  her  outstretched  hand  a  tiny  jar  no 
bigger  than  a  wine-glass.  It  was  of  an  exquisitely 
polished  black.  "Not  even  an  explorer  can  have  been 
here,  or  nothing  so  perfect  as  this  would  have  been  leftl 
What  hands  do  you  suppose  made  this!" 

But  DeWitt  did  not  answer  her  question. 


THE  FORGOTTEN  CITY  257 

•'Now,  look  here,  Rhoda,  you  aren't  to  do  anything 
like  starting  a  fixe  and  lugging  these  heavy  jars  again! 
You're  not  with  the  Indians  now.  YouVe  got  a  man  to 
wait  on  you!" 

Rhoda  looked  at  him  curiously. 

"But  I've  learned  to  like  to  do  it!"  she  protested. 
"Nobody  can  roast  a  rabbit  to  suit  me  but  myself,"  and 
in  spite  of  DeWitt's  protests  she  spitted  the  rabbits  and 
would  not  let  him  tend  the  fire  which  she  said  was  too 
fine  an  art  for  his  untrained  hands.  In  a  short  time 
the  rich  odor  of  roasting  flesh  rose  on  the  air  and  John 
watched  the  pretty  cook  with  admiration  mingled  with 
perplexity.  Rhoda  insisting  on  cooking  a  meal!  More 
than  that,  Rhoda  evidently  enjoying  the  job!  The  idea 
left  him  speechless. 

An  hour  after  Rhoda  had  spitted  the  game,  John  sighed 
with  contentment  as  he  looked  at  the  pile  of  bones  beside 
his  earthen  bowl. 

"And  they  say  jacks  aren't  good  eating!"  he  said. 
"Why  if  they  had  been  salted  they  would  have  been 
better  than  any  game  I  ever  ate!" 

"You  never  were  so  hungry  before,"  said  Rhoda. 
"Still,  they  were  well  roasted,  now  weren't  they?" 

"Your  vanity  is  colossal.  Miss  Tuttle,"  laughed  John^ 
"but  I  will  admit  that  I  never  saw  better  roasting. "  Then 
he  said  soberly,  "  I  believe  we  had  better  not  try  the  trail 

17 


^8  THE  HEART  OF  THE  DESERT 

again  today,  Rhoda  dear.  We  don*t  know  where  to  go 
and  weVe  no  supplies.  We'd  better  get  our  strength  up, 
resting  here  today,  and  tomorrow  start  in  good  shape." 

Rhoda  looked  wistfully  from  the  shade  of  the  pueblo 
out  over  the  desert.  She  had  become  very,  very  tired 
of  this  endless  fleeing. 

"I  wish  the  Newman  ranch  was  just  over  beyond," 
she  said.  "John,  what  will  you  do  if  Kut-le  comes  on 
us  here  ?** 

DeWitt's  forehead  burned  a  painful  red. 

"  I  have  a  shot  left  in  my  revolver,"  he  said. 

Rhoda  walked  ever  to  John  and  put  one  hand  on  his' 
shoulder  as  he  sat  looking  up  at  her  with  somber  blue 
eyes. 

"  John,"  she  said,  "  I  want  you  to  promise  me  that  you 
will  fire  at  Kut-le  only  in  the  last  extremity  to  keep  him 
from  carrying  me  off,  and  that  you  will  shoot  only  as 
Porter  did,  to  lame  and  not  to  kill." 

John's  jaws  came  together  and  he  returned  the  girrs 
scrutiny  with  a  steel-like  glance. 

"  Why  do  you  plead  for  him  ?"  he  asked  finally. 

"He  saved  my  life,"  she  answered  simply. 

John  rose  and  walked  up  and  down  restlessly. 
"Rhoda,  if  a  white  man  had  done  this  thing  I  would 
shoot  him  as  I  would  a  dog.    What  do  I  care  for  a  law 
in  a  case  like  this!    We  were  men  long  before  we  had 


THE  FORGOTTEN  CITY  259 

laws.  Why  should  this  Indian  be  let  go  when  he  has 
done  what  a  white  would  be  shot  for?" 

Rhoda  looked  at  him  keenly. 

"You  talk  as  if  in  your  heart  you  knew  you  were 
going  to  kill  him  because  he  is  an  Indian  and  were  trying 
to  justify  yourself  for  it!" 

He  turned  on  the  girl  a  look  so  haunted,  so  miserable, 
yet  so  determined,  that  her  heart  sank.  For  a  time  there 
was  silence,  each  afraid  to  speak.  At  last  Rhoda  said 
coolly: 

"Will  you  get  fresh  water  while  I  bank  in  the  fire?" 

DeWitt's  face  relaxed.     He  smiled  a  little  grimly. 

"I'll  do  anything  for  you  but  that  one  thing — ^promise 
not  to  kill  the  Indian." 

"The  desert  has  changed  us  both,  John,"  said  Rhoda. 
"It  has  taken  the  veneer  off  both  of  us!" 

"  Maybe  so,"  replied  DeWitt.  "  I  only  know  that  that 
Apache  must  pay  for  the  hell  you  and  I  have  lived 
through." 

"Look  at  me,  John!"  cried  Rhoda.  "Can't  you 
realize  that  the  good  Kut-le  has  done  me  has  been  far 
greater  than  his  affront  to  me?  Do  you  see  how  well  I 
am,  how  strong?  Oh,  if  I  could  only  make  you  see 
what  a  different  world  I  live  in!  You  would  have  been 
tied  to  an  invalid,  John,  if  Kut-le  hadn't  stolen  me! 


260  THE  HEART  OF  THE  DESERT 

Think  now  of  all  I  can  do  for  you!  Of  the  home  I  caD 
make,  of  the  work  I  can  do!'* 

DeWitt  answered  tersely. 

"  I'm  mighty  glad  you're  well,  but  only  for  your  own 
sake  and  because  I  can  have  you  longer.  I  don't  want 
you  to  work  for  me.  I'll  do  all  the  working  that's  done 
in  our  family!" 

"But,"  protested  Rhoda,  "that's  just  keeping  me  lazy 
and  selfish!" 

"You  couldn't  be  selfish  if  you  tried.  You  pay  your 
way  with  your  beauty.  When  I  think  of  that  Apache 
devil  having  the  joy  of  you  all  this  time,  watching  you 
grow  back  to  health,  taking  care  of  you,  carrying  you,  it 
makes  me  feel  like  a  cave  man.  I  could  kill  him  with  a 
club!  Thank  heaven,  the  lynch  law  can  hold  in  this 
forsaken  spot!  And  there  isn't  a  man  in  the  country  but 
will  back  me  up,  not  a  jury  that  would  find  me  guilty!" 

Rhoda  sat  in  utter  consternation.  The  power  of  the 
desert  to  lay  bare  the  human  soul  appalled  her.  This  was 
a  DeWitt  that  the  East  never  could  have  shown  her.  It 
sickened  her  as  she  realized  that  no  words  of  hers  could 
sway  this  man;  to  realize  that  she  was  trying  to  stay 
with  her  feeble  feminine  hands  passions  that  were  as 
old  a  world-force  as  love  itself.  All  her  new-found 
strength  seemed  inadequate  to  solve  this  new  problem. 


CHAPTER  XIX 

THE   TRAIL  AGAIN 

"POR  a  long  time  Rhoda  sat  silently  considering  her 
•■•  problem  and  John  watched  her  soberly.  Finally 
she  turned  to  speak.  As  she  did  so,  she  caught  on  the 
young  man's  face  a  look  so  weary,  so  puzzled,  so  altogether 
wretched  that  the  girl's  heart  smote  her.  This  was 
indeed  a  poor  return  for  what  he  had  endured  for  her! 
Rhoda  jumped  to  her  feet  with  resolution  in  her  eyes. 

"Are  you  too  tired  to  explore  the  ruins?"  she  asked. 

DeWitt  rose  languidly.  Rhoda  had  responded  at  once 
to  rest  and  food  but  John  would  need  a  month  of  care 
and  quiet  in  which  to  regain  his  strength. 

"I'll  do  anything  you  want  me  to — ^in  that  line!" 

Rhoda  carefully  ignored  the  last  phrase. 

"Even  if  we're  half  dead,  it's  too  bad  to  miss  the 
opportunity  to  examine  such  a  wonderful  thing  as  this. 
You  couldn't  i&nd  as  glorious  a  setting  for  a  ruin  any- 
where in  Europe." 

"Oh,  yes,  you  could;  lots  of  'em,"  answered  DeWitt. 

"You  can't  compare  a  ruin  like  this  with  anything  in 

Europe.    What  makes  European  ruins  appeal  to  us  is 

261 


202  THE  HEART  OF  THE  DESERT 

not  only  their  intrinsic  beauty  but  the  association  of  big 
ideas  with  them.  We  know  that  big  thoughts  built  them 
and  perhaps  destroyed  them." 

**What  do  you  call  big  thoughts?"  asked  Rhoda. 
"  Wasn't  it  just  as  great  for  these  Pueblo  Indians  to  per- 
form such  terrible  labor  in  building  this  for  their  families 
as  it  was  for  some  old  king  to  work  thousands  of  slaves  to 
death  to  build  him  a  monument?" 

DeWitt  laughed. 

"Rhoda,  you  can  love  the  desert,  its  Indians  and  its 
ruins  all  you  want  to,  if  you  won't  ask  me  to!  I've  had 
all  I  want  of  the  three  of  them !    Lord,  how  I  hate  it  all !" 

Rhoda  looked  at  him  wistfully.  If  only  he  could 
understand  the  spiritual  change  in  her  that  was  even 
greater  than  the  physical !  If  only  he  could  see  the  beauty 
of  those  far  lavender  hazes!  If  only  he  could  understand 
how  even  now  she  was  heartsick  for  the  night  trail  where 
one  looked  up  into  the  sky  as  into  a  shadowy  opal!  If 
only  he  knew  the  peace  that  had  dwelt  with  her  on  the 
holiday  ledge  where  there  were  tints  and  beauties  too 
deep  for  words!  And  yet  with  the  wistfulness  came  a 
strange  sense  of  satisfaction  that  all  this  new  part  of  her 
must  belong  forever  to  Kut-le. 

John  led  the  way  into  the  dwelling.  All  was  emptiness 
and  ruin.  All  .that  remained  of  the  old  life  within  its 
walls  were  wonderful  bits  of  pottery.     Only  once  did 


THE  TRAIL  AGAIN  263 

DeWitt  give  evidence  of  pleasure.  He  was  examining 
the  carefully  finished  walls  of  one  of  the  rooms  when  he 
called: 

"I  say,  Rhoda,  just  look  at  this  bit  of  humanness!" 

Rhoda  came  to  him  quickly  and  he  pointed  low  down 
on  the  adobe  wall  where  was  the  perfect  imprint  of  a 
baby*s  hand. 

"The  little  rascal  got  spanked,  I'll  bet,  for  putting  his 
hand  on  the  'dobe  before  it  was  dry!"  commented  John. 

Rhoda  smiled  but  said  nothing.  These  departed 
peoples  had  become  very  real  and  very  pitiable  to  her. 

As  soon  as  he  could  drag  Rhoda  from  the  ancient  pots, 
John  led  the  way  to  the  top  of  the  ruin.  He  was  anxious 
to  find  if  there  were  more  than  the  one  trail  leading  from 
the  desert.  To  his  great  satisfaction  he  found  that 
the  mesa  was  unscalable  except  at  the  point  that  Rhoda 
had  found  as  she  staggered  up  from  the  desert. 

"I'm  going  to  guard  that  trail  tonight,"  he  said. 
"It's  just  possible,  you  know,  that  Kut-le  escaped  from 
Porter,  though  I  think  if  he  had  he  would  have  been 
upon  us  long  before  this.  IVe  been  mighty  careless. 
But  my  brain  is  so  tired  it  seems  to  have  been  off  duty.  I 
could  hold  that  trail  single-handed  from  the  upper  terrace 
for  a  week." 

"Just  remember,"  said  Rhoda  quickly,  "that  IVe 
asked  you  not  to  shoot  to  kill !" 


264  THE  HEART  OF  THE  DESERT 

Again  the  hard  light  gleamed  in  DeWitt's  eyes. 

"I  shall  have  a  few  words  with  him  first,  then  I  shall 
shoot  to  kill.  There  is  that  between  that  Indian  and 
me  which  a  woman  evidently  can't  understand.  I  just 
can't  see  why  you  take  the  stand  you  do!" 

"John  dear,"  cried  Rhoda,  "put  yourself  in  his  place. 
With  all  the  race  prejudice  against  you  that  he  had, 
wouldn't  you  have  done  as  he  has  ?" 

"Probably,"  answered  Dewitt  calmly.  "I  also  would 
have  expected  what  he  is  going  to  get." 

A  sudden  sense  of  the  bizarre  nature  of  their  conversa- 
tion caused  Rhoda  to  say  comically: 

"I  never  knew  that  you  could  have  such  bloody  ideas, 
John!" 

DeWitt  was  glad  to  turn  the  conversation,  i 

"I  am  so  only  occasionally,"  he  said.  "For  instance, 
instead  of  shooting  the  rabbit  for  supper,  I'm  going  to  try 
a  figure-four  trap." 

They  returned  to  their  little  camp  on  the  upper  terrace 
and  Rhoda  sat  with  wistful  gray  eyes  fastened  on  the 
desert  while  John  busied  himself  with  the  trap-making. 
He  worked  with  the  skill  of  his  country  boyhood  and 
the  trap  was  cleverly  finished. 

"It's  evident  that  I'm  not  the  leader  of  the  expedition 
any  more,"  said  Rhoda,  looking  at  the  trap  admiringly. 

John  shook  his  head. 


THE  TRAIL  AGAIN  265 

"Fve  lost  my  faith  in  myself  as  a  hero.  It's  one  thing 
to  read  of  the  desert  and  think  how  well  you  could  have 
managed  there,  and  another  thing  to  be  on  the  spot!'* 

The  day  passed  slowly.  As  night  drew  on  the  two  on 
the  mesa  top  grew  more  and  more  anxious.  There  was 
little  doubt  but  that  they  could  live  for  a  number  of  days 
at  the  old  pueblo,  yet  it  was  evident  that  the  ruin  was  far 
from  any  traveled  trail  and  that  chances  of  discovery 
were  slight  except  by  Kut-le.  On  the  other  hand,  they 
were  absolutely  unprepared  for  a  walking  trip  across  the 
desert.  Troubled  and  uncertain  what  to  do,  they  watched 
the  wonder  of  the  sunset.  Deeper,  richer,  more  divine 
grew  the  colors  of  the  desert,  and  in  one  supreme,  flaming 
glory  the  sun  sank  from  view. 

DeWitt  with  his  arm  across  Rhoda's  shoulders  spoke 
anxiously. 

"Don't  you  still  think  we'd  better  start  tomorrow?" 

"Yes,"  she  answered,  "I  suppose  so.  What  direction 
shall  we  take  ?" 

"East,"  replied  DeWitt.  "We're  bound  to  strike 
help  if  we  can  keep  going  long  enough  in  one  direction. 
We'll  cook  a  good  supply  of  rabbits  and  I'll  fix  up  one  of 
those  bowl-like  ollas  with  my  handkerchief,  so  we  can 
carry  water  in  it  as  well  as  in  the  two  canteens.  I  think 
you  had  better  sleep  in  the  little  room  there  tonight  and 
I'll  lie  across  the  end  of  the  trail  here." 


2Q6  THE  HEART  OF  THE  DESERT 

Rhoda  sighed. 

"I've  nothing  better  to  suggest.  As  you  say,  it's  all 
guesswork!" 

They  set  the  rabbit  trap  by  the  spring,  then  Rhoda, 
quite  recovered  from  her  nervousness  of  the  night  before, 
entered  her  little  sleeping-room  and  made  ready  for  the 
night.  The  front  of  the  room  had  so  crumbled  away 
that  she  could  see  John's  dark  form  by  the  trail,  and 
she  lay  down  with  a  sense  of  security  and  fell  asleep  at 
once. 

John  paced  the  terrace  for  a  long  hour  after  Rhoda  was 
asleep,  trying  to  plan  every  detail  for  the  morrow.  He 
dared  not  confess  even  to  himself  how  utterly  disheartened 
he  felt  in  the  face  of  this  terrible  adversary,  the  desert. 
Finally,  realizing  that  he  must  have  rest  if  Rhoda  was  not 
to  repeat  her  previous  experience  in  leading  him  across  the 
desert  he  stretched  himself  on  the  ground  across  the  head 
of  the  trail.  He  must  trust  to  his  nervousness  to  make 
him  sleep  lightly. 

How  long  she  had  slept  Rhoda  did  not  know  when  she 
was  wakened  by  a  half-muffled  oath  from  DeWitt.  She 
jumped  to  her  feet  and  ran  out  to  the  terrace.  Never 
while  life  remained  to  her  was  she  to  forget  what  she  saw 
there.  DeWitt  and  Kut-le  were  wrestling  in  each  other's 
grip!  Rhoda  stood  horrified.  As  the  two  men  twisted 
about,  DeWitt  saw  the  girl  and  panted: 


THE  TRAIL  AGAIN  267 

"Don't  stir,  Rhoda!  Don't  call  or  you'll  have  his 
whole  bunch  up  here!" 

'*  Don't  worry  about  that !"  exclaimed  Kut-le.  *'  You'  ve 
been  wanting  to  get  hold  of  me.  Now  we'll  fight  it  out 
bare-handed  and  the  best  man  wins." 

Rhoda  looked  wildly  down  the  trail,  then  ran  up  to  the 
two  men. 

''  Stop !"  she  screamed.  "  Stop ! "  Then  as  she  caught 
the  look  in  the  men's  faces  as  they  glared  at  each  other 
she  cried,     "I  hate  you  both,  you  beasts!" 

Her  screams  carried  far  in  the  night  air,  for  in  a  moment 
Cesca  came  panting  up  the  trail.  She  lunged  at  DeWitt 
with  catlike  fury,  but  at  a  sharp  word  from  Kut-le  she 
turned  to  Rhoda  and  stood  guard  beside  the  girl.  Rhoda 
stood  helplessly  watching  the  battle  as  one  watches  the 
horrors  of  a  nightmare. 

Kut-le  and  DeWitt  now  were  fighting  as  two  wolves 
fight.  Both  the  men  were  trained  wrestlers,  but  in  their 
fury  all  their  scientific  training  was  forgotten,  and  rolling 
over  and  over  on  the  rocky  trail  each  fought  for  a  hold 
on  the  other's  throat.  With  Kut-le  was  the  advantage 
of  perfect  condition  and  superior  strength.  But  DeWitt 
was  fighting  for  his  stolen  mate.  He  was  fighting  like  a 
cave  man  who  has  brooded  for  months  on  his  revenge, 
and  he  was  a  terrible  adversary.  He  had  the  sudden 
strength,  the  fearful  recklessness  of  a  madman.     Now 


268  THE  HEART  OF  THE  DESERT 

rolling  on  the  edge  of  the  terrace,  now  high  against  the 
crumbling  pueblo,  the  savage  and  the  civilized  creature 
dragged  each  other  back  and  forth.  And  Rhoda,  awed 
by  this  display  of  passions,  stood  like  the  First  Woman 
and  waited! 

Of  a  sudden  Kut-le  disentangled  himself  and  with  knees 
on  DeWitt's  shoulders  he  clutched  at  the  white  man's 
throat.  At  the  same  time,  DeWitt  gathered  together  his 
recimibent  body  and  with  a  mighty  heave  he  flung  Kut-le 
over  his  head.  Rhoda  gave  a  little  cry,  thinking  the 
fight  was  ended;  but  as  Kut-le  gained  his  feet,  DeWitt 
sprang  to  meet  him  and  the  struggle  was  renewed.  Rhoda 
never  had  dreamed  of  a  sight  so  sickening  as  this  of  the 
two  men  she  knew  so  well  fighting  for  each  other's  throats 
with  the  animal's  lust  for  killing.  She  did  not  know  what 
would  be  Kut-le's  course  if  he  gained  the  mastery,  but 
as  she  caught  glimpses  of  DeWitt's  face  with  its  clenched 
teeth  and  terrible  look  of  loathing  she  knew  that  if  his 
fingers  ever  reached  Kut-le's  throat  the  Indian  could  hope 
for  no  mercy. 

And  then  she  saw  DeWitt's  face  go  white  and  his  head 
drop  back. 

''Oh!"  she  screamed.  "You've  killed  him!  You've 
killed  him!" 

The  Indian's  voice  came  in  jerks  as  he  eased  DeWitt 
to  the  ground. 


THE  TRAIL  AGAIN  269 

"He's  just  fainted.  He's  put  up  a  tremendous  fight 
for  a  man  in  his  condition!" 

As  he  spoke  he  was  tying  DeWitt's  hands  and  ankles 
with  his  own  and  DeWitt's  handkerchiefs.  Rhoda 
would  have  run  to  DeWitt's  aid  but  Cesca's  hand  was 
tight  on  her  arm.  Before  the  girl  could  plan  any  action, 
Kut-le  had  turned  to  her  and  had  lifted  her  in  his  arms. 
She  fought  him  wildly. 

"I  can't  leave  him  so,  Kut-le!  You  will  kill  all  I've 
learned  to  feel  for  you  if  you  leave  him  so!" 

"He'll  be  all  right!"  panted  Kut-le,  running  down  the 
trail.    "  I've  got  Billy  Porter  down  here  to  leave  with  him  !'* 

At  the  foot  of  the  trail  were  horses.  Gagged  and  bound 
to  his  saddle  Billy  Porter  sat  in  the  moonlight  with  Molly 
on  guard.  Kut-le  put  Rhoda  on  a  horse,  then  quickly 
thrust  Porter  to  the  ground,  where  the  man  sat  helplessly, 

"Oh,  Billy!"  cried  Rhoda.  "John  is  on  the  terrace! 
Find  him!    Help  him!" 

The  last  words  were  spoken  as  Kut-le  turned  her  horse 
and  led  at  a  trot  into  the  desert 


CHAPTER  XX 

THE  RUINED  MISSION 

"DHODA  was  so  confused  that  for  a  moment  she  could 
only  ease  herself  to  the  pony's  swift  canter  and 
wonder  if  her  encounter  with  DeWitt  had  been  but  a 
dream  after  all.  A  short  distance  from  the  pueblo  Kut-lc 
rode  in  beside  her.  It  was  very  dark,  with  the  heavy 
blackness  that  just  precedes  the  dawn,  but  Rhoda  felt 
that  the  Indian  was  looking  at  her  exultingly. 

^^It  seemed  as  if  I  never  would  get  Alchise  and  Injun 
Tom  moved  to  a  friend's  campos  so  that  I  could  overtake 
you.  I  will  say  that  that  fellow  Porter  is  game  to  the 
finish.  It  took  me  an  hour  to  subdue  him!  Now,  don't 
worry  about  the  two  of  them.  With  a  little  work  they  can 
loose  themselves  and  help  each  other  to  safety.  I  saw 
Newman's  trail  ten  miles  or  so  over  beyond  the  pueblo 
mesa  and  I  told  Porter  just  how  to  go  to  pick  him  up." 

Rhoda  laughed  hysterically. 

"No  wonder  you  have  such  a  hold  on  your  Indians! 
You  seem  never  to  fail!  I  do  believe  as  much  of  it  is 
luck  as  ingenuity!" 

Kut-le  chuckled, 

271 


^n  THE  HEART  OF  THE  DESERT 

"  What  a  jolt  DeWitt  will  find  when  he  comes  to,  and 
finds  Porter!" 

"You  needn't  gloat  over  the  situation,  Kut-le!"  ex- 
claimed Rhoda,  half  sobbing  in  her  conflict  of  emotions. 

"Oh,  you  mustn't  mind  anything  I  say,"  returned  the 
young  Indian.  "I  am  crazy  with  joy  at  just  hearing 
your  voice  again!  Are  you  really  sorry  to  be  with  me 
again?  Did  DeWitt  mean  as  much  to  you  as  ever? 
Tell  me,  Rhoda!     Say  just  one  kindly  thing  to  me!" 

"O  Kut-le,"  cried  Rhoda,  "I  can't!  I  can't!  You 
Tnust  help  me  to  be  strong !  You — who  are  the  strongest 
person  that  I  know !  Can't  you  put  yourself  in  my  place 
and  realize  what  a  horrible  position  I  am  in?" 

Kut-le  answered  slowly. 

"I  guess  I  can  realize  it.  But  the  end  is  so  great,  so 
much  worth  while  that  nothing  before  that  matters  much, 
to  me!  Rhoda,  isn't  this  good — the  lift  of  the  horse 
under  your  knees — the  air  rushing  past  your  face — the 
weave  and  twist  of  the  trail — don't  they  speak  to  you  and 
doesn't  your  heart  answer  ?" 

"Yes,"  answered  Rhoda  simply. 

The  young  Indian  rode  still  closer.  Dawn  was  lifting 
now,  and  with  a  gasp  Rhoda  saw  what  she  had  been  too 
agonized  to  heed  on  the  terrace  in  the  moonlight. 
Kut-le  was  clothed  again!  He  wore  the  khaki  suit,  thG 
high-laced  riding  boots  of  the  ranch  days;  and  he  wore 


THE  RUINED  MISSION  273 

them  with  the  grace,  the  debonair  ease  that  had  so 
charmed  Rhoda  in  young  Cartwell.  That  little  sense  of  his 
difference  that  his  Indian  nakedness  had  kept  in  Rhoda' s 
subconsciousness  disappeared.  She  stared  at  his  broad, 
graceful  shoulders,  at  the  fine  outline  of  his  head  which 
still  was  bare,  and  she  knew  that  her  decision  was  going 
to  be  indescribably  difficult  to  keep.  Kut-le  watched  the 
wistful  gray  eyes  tenderly,  as  if  he  realized  the  depth  of 
anguish  behind  their  wistfulness;  yet  he  watched  none 
the  less  resolutely,  as  if  he  had  no  qualms  over  the  out- 
come of  his  plans.  And  Rhoda,  returning  his  gaze, 
caught  the  depth  and  splendor  of  his  eyes.  And  that 
wordless  joy  of  life  whose  thrill  had  touched  her  the  first 
time  that  she  had  met  young  Cartwell  rushed  through 
her  veins  once  more.  He  was  the  youth,  the  splendor, 
the  vivid  wholesomeness  of  the  desert!  He  was  the 
heart  itself,  of  the  desert. 

Kut-le  laid  his  hand  on  hers. 

"Rhoda,"  softly,  "do  you  remember  the  moment 
before  Porter  interrupted  us?  Ah,  dear  one,  you  will 
have  to  prove  much  to  erase  the  truth  of  that  moment 
from  our  hearts!  How  much  longer  must  I  wait  for  you, 
Rhoda?" 

Rhoda  did  not  speak,  but  as  she  returned  the  young 
man*s  gaze  there  came  her  rare  slow  smile  of  unspeakable 
beauty  and  tenderness.     Kut-le  trembled;  but  before  he 

18 


274  THE  HEART  OF  THE  DESERT 

could  speak  Rhoda  seemed  to  see  between  his  face  and 
hers,  DeWitt,  haggard  and  exhausted,  expending  the 
last  remnant  of  his  strength  in  his  fight  for  her.  She 
put  her  hands  before  her  face  with  a  little  sob. 

Kut-le  watched  her  in  silence  for  a  moment,  then  he 
said  in  his  low  rich  voice: 

"Neither  DeWitt  nor  I  want  you  to  suffer  over  your 
decision.  And  DeWitt  doesn't  want  just  the  shell  of 
you.  I  have  the  real  you!  O  Rhoda,  the  real  you  will 
belong  to  me  if  you  are  seven  times  De Witt's  wife! 
Can't  you  realize  that  forever  and  ever  you  are  mine,  no 
matter  how  you  fight  or  what  you  do?" 

But  Rhoda  scarcely  heard  him.  She  was  with  DeWitt, 
struggling  across  the  parching  sands. 

"O  Kut-le!  Kut-le!  What  shall  I  do!  What  shall 
I  do!" 

Kut-le  started  to  answer,  then  changed  his  mind. 

"You  poor,  tired  little  girl,"  he  said.  "You  have  had 
a  fierce  time  there  in  the  desert.  You  look  exhausted. 
What  did  you  have  to  eat  and  how  did  you  make  out 
crossing  to  the  mesa  ?  By  your  trail  you  went  miles  out 
of  your  way." 

Rhoda  struggled  for  calm. 

"We  nearly  died  the  first  day,"  she  said.  "But  we 
did  very  well  after  we  reached  the  mesa." 

Kut-le  smiled  to  himself.     It  was  hard  even  for  him  to 


THE  RUINED  MISSION  275 

realize  that  this  plucky  girl  who  passed  so  simply  over 
such  an  ordeal  as  he  knew  she  must  have  endured  could 
be  the  Rhoda  of  the  ranch.     But  he  said  only: 

"We'll  make  for  the  timber  line  and  let  you  rest  for 
a  while." 

At  mid-moming  they  left  the  desert  and  began  to  climb 
a  rough  mountain  slope.  At  the  piiion  line,  Kut-le 
called  a  halt.  Never  before  had  shade  seemed  so  good 
to  Rhoda  as  it  did  now.  She  lay  on  the  pine-needles 
looking  up  into  the  soft  green.  It  was  unspeakably 
grateful  to  her  eyes  which  had  been  so  long  tortured  by 
the  desert  glare.  She  lay  thus  for  a  long  time,  her  mental 
pain  for  a  while  lost  in  the  access  of  physical  comfort. 
Shortly  Molly,  who  had  been  working  rapidly,  brought 
her  a  steaming  bowl  of  stew.  Rhoda  ate  this,  then  with 
her  head  pillowed  on  her  arm  she  fell  asleep. 

She  was  wakened  by  Molly's  touch  on  her  arm.  It 
was  late  afternoon.  Rhoda  looked  up  into  the  squaw's 
face  and  drew  a  quick  hard  breath  as  realization  came  to 
her. 

"Molly!  Molly!"  she  cried.  "I'm  in  terrible,  terri- 
ble trouble,  Molly!" 

The  squaw  looked  worried. 

"You  no  go  away!  Kut-le  heap  sorry  while  you 
gone!" 

But  Rhoda  scarcely  heeded  the  woman's  voice.     She 


276  THE  HEART  OF  THE  DESERT 

rolled  over  with  her  hot  face  in  the  fragrant  needles  asd 
groaned. 

"  O  Molly !    Molly !    I'm  in  terrible  trouble !" 

"  What  trouble  ?    You  tell  old  Molly !'' 

Rhoda  sat  up  and  stared  into  the  deep  brown  eyes. 
Just  as  Kut-le  had  become  to  her  the  splendor  of  the 
desert,  so  had  Molly  become  the  brooding  wisdom  of  the 
desert.  With  sudden  inspiration  she  grasped  the  Indian 
woman's  toil-scarred  hands. 

"Listen,  Molly!  Before  I  knew  Kut-le,  I  was  going 
to  marry  the  white  man,  DeWitt.  And  after  he  stole  me 
I  hated  Kut-le  and  I  hated  the  desert.  And  now,  O 
Molly,  I  love  both  Kut-le  and  the  desert,  and  I  must  marry 
the  white  man !" 

"  Why  ?    You  tell  Molly  why  ?" 

"Because  he  is  white,  Molly,  like  me.  Because  he 
loves  me  so  and  has  done  so  much  for  me !  But  most  of 
all  because  he  is  white!" 

Molly  scowled. 

"  Because  Kut-le  is  Injun,  you  no  marry  him  ?" 

Rhoda  nodded  miserably. 

"  Huh !  And  you  think  you  so  big,  Kut-le  so  big  that 
Qreat  Spirit  care  if  you  marry  white,  marry  Injun.  All 
Great  Spirit  care  is  for  every  squaw  to  have  papoose. 
Squaw,  she  big  fool  to  listen  to  her  head.    Squaw,  she 


THE  RUINED  MISSION  277 

must  always  listen  to  her  heart,  that  is  Great  Spirit 
talking.     Your  heart,  it  say  marry  Kut-le!" 

Molly  paused  and  looked  at  the  girl,  who  sat  with 
stormy  eyes  on  the  sinking  sun.  And  she  forgot  her 
hard-earned  wisdom  and  was  just  a  heart-hungry  woman. 

"You  stay!  Stay  with  Kut-le  and  old  Molly!  You 
so  sweet !  You  like  little  childs !  You  lie  in  old  Molly's 
heart  like  little  girl  papoose  that  never  came  to  Molly. 
You  stay !    Always,  always,  Molly  will  take  care  of  you  !'* 

Rhoda  was  deeply  touched.  This  was  the  cry  of  the 
famished  motherhood  of  a  dying  race.  She  put  her  soft 
cheek  on  Molly's  shoulder  and  she  could  no  longer  see  the 
sun,  for  her  eyes  were  tear-blinded.  Kut-le,  standing  on 
the  other  side  of  the  camp,  looked  at  the  picture  with 
deepening  eyes;  then  he  crossed  and  put  his  hand  on 
Rhoda's  shoulder. 

"Dear  one,"  he  said,  "you  must  eat  your  supper,  then 
we  must  take  the  trail." 

Rhoda  looked  up  into  the  young  man's  face.  She  was 
exquisite  in  the  failing  light.  For  a  moment  it  seemed 
as  if  Kut-le  must  fold  her  in  his  arms;  but  something  in 
her  troubled  gaze  withheld  him  and  he  only  smiled  at  her 
caressingly. 

"Before  you  eat,"  he  said,  "come  to  the  edge  of  the 
camp  and  look  through  the  glasses." 

Rhoda  hurried  after  him,  and  stared  out  over  the 


278  THE  HEART  OF  THE  DESERT 

desert.  A  short  distance  out,  vivid  in  the  afterglow, 
moved  two  figures.  She  distinguished  the  short  wiry  fig- 
ure of  Porter,  the  gaunt  figure  of  DeWitt,  walking  with 
determined  strides.  Waiting  till  she  could  command  her 
voice,  Rhoda  turned  to  Kut-le.  He  was  watching  her 
keenly. 

"Will  they  pick  up  our  trail?  Are  the  poor  things 
badly  lost?" 

"Billy  Porter  lost!  I  guess  not!  And  I  gave  him 
enough  hints  so  that  he  ought  to  join  Newman  in  another 
twenty-four  hours." 

Rhoda  smiled  wanly. 

"Sometimes  you  forget  to  act  like  a  cold-blooded 
Indian." 

Kut-le  gave  his  familiar  chuckle. 

"Well,  you  see,  I've  been  contaminated  by  my  Jong 
association  with  the  whites!" 

And  so  again  the  nights  of  going.  During  her  waking 
hours,  Rhoda  spent  the  greater  part  of  her  time  consider- 
ing arguments  that  would  have  weight  with  Kut-le 
when  the  struggle  came  which  she  knew  was  imminent. 

If  she  had  suffered  before,  if  the  early  part  of  her 
abduction  had  been  agony,  it  had  been  nothing  in  com- 
parison with  what  she  was  enduring  in  putting  Kut-le 
aside  for  DeWitt.  And,  after  all,  she  had  no  final  guide 
in  holding  to  her  resolution  save  an  instinct  that  told 


THE  RUINED  MISSION  279 

her  that  her  course  was  the  right  one.  All  the  arguments 
that  she  could  put  into  words  against  inter-race  marriage 
seemed  inadequate.  This  instinct  which  was  wordless 
and  formless  alone  remained  sufficient. 

And  with  the  ill  logic  of  womankind,  through  all  her 
arguing  with  herself  there  flushed  one  glad  thought. 
Kut-le  knew  that  she  loved  him,  knew  that  she  was 
suffering  in  the  thought  of  giving  him  up!  His  tender, 
half  sad,  half  triumphant  smile  proved  that,  as  did  his 
protective  air  of  ownership. 

Rhoda  noticed  one  condition  of  her  keeping  to  her 
decision.  She  was  very  firm  in  it  at  night  when  the 
desert  was  dim.  But  in  the  glory  of  the  dawns  and  the 
sunsets,  her  little  arguments  seemed  strangely  small. 
Sitting  on  a  mountainside  one  afternoon,  Rhoda  watched 
a  rain-storm  sweep  across  the  ranges,  across  the  desert, 
to  the  far-lying  mesas.  Normally  odorless,  the  desert, 
after  the  rain,  emitted  a  faint,  ineffable  odor  that  teased 
the  girl's  fancy  as  if  she  verged  on  the  secret  of  the 
desert's  beauty.  Exquisite  violet  mists  rolled  back  to 
the  mountains.  Flashing  every  rainbow  tint  from  its 
moistened  breast  the  desert  lay  as  if  breathing  the  very 
words  of  the  Great  Scheme. 

Suddenly  to  Rhoda  her  resolution  seemed  small  and 
futile,  and  for  a  long  hour  she  revelled  in  the  thought  of 
belonging  to  the  man  she  loved.     And  yet  as  night 


280  THE  HEART  OF  THE  DESERT 

descended  and  the  infinite  reaches  of  the  desert  receded 
into  darkness,  the  spell  was  broken  and  the  old  doubts 
and  misery  returned. 

And  so  again,  the  nights  of  going.  But  the  holiday 
aspect  of  the  flight  was  gone.  Kut-le  moved  with  a 
grim  determination  that  was  not  to  be  misinterpreted. 
Rhoda  knew  that  they  were  to  reach  the  Mexican  border 
with  all  possible  speed.  The  young  Indian  drove  the 
litde  party  to  the  limit  of  its  endurance.  Rhoda  avoided 
talking  to  him  as  much  as  she  could  and  Kut-le,  seeming 
to  understand  her  mood,  left  her  much  to  herself. 

On  the  fourth  day  they  camped  on  a  canon  edge. 
After  Rhoda  had  eaten  she  walked  with  Kut-le  to  the  far 
edge  and  looked  down.  The  canon  was  very  deep  and 
narrow.  Some  distance  away,  near  where  it  opened  on 
the  desert,  lay  a  heap  of  ruins. 

"Is  that  another  pueblo?"  asked  Rhoda. 

"No,  it's  an  old  monastery.  Part  of  the  year  they 
have  a  padre  there.  I  wish  I  knew  if  there  was  one 
there  now.** 

"Why?"  asked  Rhoda  suspiciously. 

"Don't  bother  your  dear  head,"  answered  Kut-le. 
Then  he  went  on,  as  if  half  to  himself:  "There's  been 
an  awful  lot  of  fooling  on  this  expedition.  Perhaps  I 
ought  to  have  made  for  the  Mexican  border  the  very 
night  I  took  you."    He  looked  at  Rhoda's  wide,  troubled 


THE  RUINED  MISSION  281 

eyes.  "But  no,  then  I  would  have  missed  this  won- 
derful desert  growth  of  yours!  But  now  we  are  going 
straight  over  the  border  where  I  know  a  padre  that 
will  marry  us.  Then  we  will  make  for  Europe  at 
once." 

The  morning  sun  glinted  on  the  pine-needles.  Old 
Molly  hummed  a  singsong  air  over  the  stew-pot.  And 
Rhoda  stood  with  stormy,  tear-dimmed  eyes  and  quiver- 
ing lips. 

"It  can  never,  never  be,  Kut-le!" 

"Why  not?'* 

"We  can't  solve  the  problems  of  race  adjustment. 
No  love  is  big  enough  for  that.  I  have  been  civilized  a 
thousand  years.  You  have  been  savage  a  thousand 
years.     You  can't  come  forward.     I  can't  go  backward.'* 

"You  know  well  enough,  Rhoda,"  said  Kut-le  quietly, 
"that  I  am  civilized." 

"You  are  externally,  perhaps,"  said  the  girl.  "But 
you  yourself  have  no  proof  that  at  heart  you  are  not  as 
uncivilized  as  your  father  or  grandfather.  Your  stealing 
me  shows  that.  Nothing  can  change  our  instinct.  You 
know  that  you  might  revert  at  any  time." 

Kut-le  turned  on  her  fiercely. 

"Do  you  love  me,  Rhoda?" 

Rhoda  stood  silently,  her  cleft  chin  trembling,  her  deep 
gray  eyes  wide  and  grief-stricken. 


282  THE  HEART  OF  THE  DESERT 

''Do  you  love  me — and  better  than  you  do  DeWitt?" 
insisted  the  man. 

Suddenly  Rhoda  lifted  her  head  proudly. 

"Yes,"  she  said,  "I  do  love  you,  better  than  any  one 
in  the  world;  but  I  cannot  marry  you!" 

Kut-Ie  took  her  trembling  hands  in  his. 

"Why  not,  dear  one?"  he  asked. 

Still  the  sun  flickered  on  the  pine-needles  and  still 
Molly  hummed  over  her  stew-pot.  Still  Rhoda  stood 
looking  into  the  eyes  of  the  man  she  loved,  her  scarlet 
cheeks  growing  each  moment  more  deeply  crimson. 

"Because  you  are  an  Indian.  The  instinct  in  me 
against  such  a  marriage  is  so  strong  that  I  dare  not  go 
against  it." 

Kut-le's  mouth  closed  in  the  old  way. 

"And  still  you  shall  marry  me,  Rhoda!" 

"I  am  a  white  woman,  Kut-le.  I  can't  marry  an 
Indian.     The  difference  is  too  great!" 

Kut-le  turned  abruptly  and  walked  to  the  canon  edge, 
looking  far  out  to  the  desert.  Rhoda,  panting  and  half 
hysterical,  watched  him.  The  moment  which  she  had 
so  dreaded  had  arrived,  and  she  found  herself,  after  all 
her  planning,  utterly  unprepared  to  meet  it  save  with 
hackneyed  phrases. 

It  seemed  a  long  time  that  Kut-le  stood  staring  away 
from  her.     At  last  Rhoda  could  bear  the  silence  no  longer. 


THE  RUINED  MISSION  283 

She  ran  to  him  and  put  her  trembling  hand  on  his  arm. 
He  turned  his  stem  young  face  to  her  and  her  heart 
failed  her. 

"O  Kut-le!  Kut-le!"  she  cried.  "If  you  won*t  help 
me  to  do  right,  who  will  ?  It's  not  right  for  us  to  marry! 
Just  not  right!    That's  all  I  know  about  it!" 

Kut-le  put  both  hands  on  her  shoulders. 

"  Look  here,  Rhoda.  What  you  call  the '  right '  instinct 
is  just  the  remnant  of  the  old  man-made  race  hatred 
in  you.  It's  just  a  part  of  the  old  conceit  of  the 
Caucasian." 

Rhoda  stirred  restlessly,  but  Kut-le  held  her  firmly  and 
went  on. 

"I  tell  you,  if  we're  not  to  go  mad,  we've  got  to  believe 
that  great  things  come  to  us  for  a  purpose.  There  is  no 
human  being  who  has  loved  who  does  not  believe  that 
love  is  the  greatest  thing  that  has  been  given  to  man. 
The  man  who  has  loved  knows  that  the  biggest  things  in 
the  world  have  been  done  for  the  love  of  woman.  Love 
is  bigger  than  nations  or  races.  It's  human,  not  white, 
or  black,  or  yellow.  It's  above  all  we  can  do  to  tarnish 
it  with  our  little  prejudices.  When  it  comes  greatly, 
it  comes  supremely." 

He  lifted  the  girl's  face  and  looked  deeply  into  her  eyes. 

"Rhoda,  if  it  has  come  as  greatly  to  you  as  it  has  to 
me,  you  will  not  pause  for  any  sorrow  that  your  coming 


284  THE  HEART  OF  THE  DESERT 

to  me  may  cost  you.  You  will  come,  in  spite  of  every- 
thing. I  believe  that  if  in  your  smallness  and  ignorance 
you  refuse  this  gift  that  has  come  to  you  and  me,  you  will 
be  outraging  the  greatest  force  in  nature." 

Rhoda  stood  sorrow-stricken  and  confused.  When 
fhe  deep,  quiet  voice  ceased,  she  said  brokenly: 

"I  haven't  lived  in  the  desert  so  long  as  you.  The 
way  does  not  lie  so  clear  to  me.  If  only  I  had  your  con- 
viction, I  too  could  be  strong  and  walk  the  path  I  saw 
unhesitatingly.     But  I  see  no  path !" 

"Then,''  said  Kut-le,  "because  I  see,  I'll  decide  for 
you!  O  Rhoda,  you  must  believe  in  me!  I  have  had 
you  in  my  power  and  I  have  kept  the  faith  with  you. 
I  am  going  to  take  you  and  marry  you.  I  am  going  to 
make  this  gift  that  has  come  to  you  and  me  make  us  the 
big  man  and  woman  that  nature  needs.  Tonight  we 
shall  reach  the  padre  who  will  marry  us." 

He  watched  the  girl  keenly  for  a  moment,  then  he 
again  turned  from  her  deliberately  and  walked  to  the 
edge  of  the  canon,  as  if  he  wanted  her  to  come  to  her 
final  decision  unbiased  by  his  nearness.  But  he  turned 
back  to  her  with  a  curious  expression  on  his  face. 

"  Come  and  take  a  good-by  look,  Rhoda !  Your  friends 
are  below.  I  hope  it  will  be  some  time  before  we  see  them 
again!" 

Rhoda  went  to  him.    Far,  far  below,  she  saw  little  dots 


THE  RUINED  MISSION  285 

of  men  making  camp  beyond  the  monastery  near  the 
desert.  Suddenly  Rhoda  sank  to  her  knees  with  a  cry 
of  longing  that  was  heart-breaking. 

"  O  my  people !  My  own  people !"  she  sobbed,  crouch- 
ing upon  the  canon  edge. 

Kut-le  watched  the  little  figure  with  inscrutable  eyes. 
Then  he  lifted  the  girl  to  her  feet. 

*^  Rhoda,  are  you  going  to  eat  your  heart  out  for  your 
own  kind  if  you  marry  me?  Won't  I  be  sufficient? 
It  hadn't  occurred  to  me  that  I  might  not  be!" 

''  You  haven't  given  up  your  people,"  answered  Rhoda. 
"You  are  always  going  back  to  them." 

"But  you  aren't  really  giving  them  up,"  urged  Kut-le. 
"It  really  is  I  who  make  the  sacrifice  of  my  race!" 

"And  that  is  the  reason  for  one  of  my  fears,"  cried 
Rhoda.  "I  am  afraid  that  some  day  you  would  find 
the  price  too  great  and  that  our  marriage  would  be 
wrecked." 

"Even  if  I  went  back  for  a  few  months  each  year, 
would  that  make  you  unhappy?"  asked  Kut-le. 

"Kut-le!"  exclaimed  Rhoda.  "I  am  not  talking  of 
externals.  I  mean  that  if  your  longing  for  your  own 
kind  made  you  lose  your  love  for  me.  Oh,  I  can't  see 
any  of  it  straight,  but  I  am  afraid !" 

"Nonsense,  Rhoda!  I  fought  that  battle  long  before 
I  knew  you.    There  is  absolutely  no  danger  of  my 


286  THE  HEART  OF  THE  DESERT 

reverting.  I  am  going  to  spend  the  rest  of  my  life  among 
the  whites  even  if  you  shouldn't  marry  me,  Rhoda. 
Rhoda,  I  wish  I  had  had  time  to  let  yOu  grow  to  it 
fully!" 

Rhoda  stood  rigidly.  Molly,  sensing  trouble,  hovered 
restlessly  just  out  of  earshot.  ^ 

"  If  you  married  DeWitt,*'  Kut-le  went  on,  "  could  you 
forget  me?  Forget  the  desert?  Forget  our  days  and 
nights  ?    Forget  my  arms  about  you  ?" 

"  Oh,  no !  No !"  cried  Rhoda.  "  You  know  that  I  shall 
love  you  always!" 

"  And  will  DeWitt  want  what  you  ofifer  him  ?"  Kut-le 
went  on,  mercilessly. 

Rhoda  winced. 

"I  wish,"  said  Kut-le  huskily,  "you  never  will  know 
how  I  wish  that  you  had  come  to  me  freely,  feeling  that 
the  sacrifice  was  worth  while!" 

Rhoda  looked  at  him  wonderingly.  After  all  the 
weeks  of  iron  determination,  was  the  young  giant  weak- 
ening, was  his  great  heart  failing  him! 

"I  had  thought,"  he  went  on,  "that  you  were  big 
enough  to  stand  the  test.  That  after  the  travail  and  the 
heart  scourging,  you  would  see — and  would  come  to  me 
freely — strong  enough  to  smile  at  all  your  regrets  and 
fears.  That  thought  steeled  me  to  put  you  through  the 
torture.     But  if  now,  at  the  end,  you  are  coming  to  me 


THE  RUINED  MISSION  287 

only  because  you  must!    Rhoda,  I  don't  want  you  on 
those  terms." 

Rhoda  gasped.    She  felt  as  one  feels  when  in  a  dream  . 
one  falls  an  unexpected  and  endless  distance.    The  relief 
from  the  pressure  of  Kut-le's  will  that  had  forced  her  on, 
for  so  long,  left  her  weak  and  aimless. 

Yet  somehow  she  found  the  strength  to  say : 

"Kut-le,  we  must  give  each  other  up!  I  love  you 
so  that  I  can  let  you  go!  Oh,  can't  you  see  how  I  feel 
about  it!" 

Again  Kut-le  looked  far  off  over  vista  of  mountains 
and  canon.  His  eyes  were  deep  and  abstracted,  as  if  he 
saw  into  the  years  ahead  with  knowledge  denied  to 
Rhoda.  Then  he  turned  to  Rhoda  and  searched  her 
face  with  burning  gaze.  He  eyed  her  hair,  her  lovely 
heart-broken  face,  her  slender  figure.  For  a  moment  his 
face  was  tortured  by  a  look  of  doubt  that  was  heart- 
shattering.  He  lifted  Rhoda  across  his  chest  in  the 
old  way  and  held  her  to  him  with  passionate  tender- 
ness. He  laid  his  face  against  hers  and  she  heard  him 
whisper: 

"O  my  love!  Love  of  my  youth  and  my  manhood!" 
Then  he  set  her  very  gently  to  her  feet.  "Don't  cry," 
he  said.     " I  can't  bear  it!" 

Rhoda  threw  her  arms  above  her  head  in  an  abandon- 
ment of  agony. 


288  THE  HEART  OF  THE  DESERT 

"  Oh,  I  cannot,  cannot  bear  this!^'  Then  she  added 
more  calmly:  "I  suffer  as  much  as  you,  Kut-le!'* 

Again  the  look  of  unspeakable  grief  crossed  the  young 
Indian^s  face,  but  it  immediately  became  inscrutable. 
He  led  Rhoda  along  the  canon  edge. 

"  Do  you  see  that  little  trail  going  down  ?"  he  said. 

"Yes,"  said  Rhoda  wonderingly. 

"Then  go!"  said  Kut-le  quietly. 

Rhoda  looked  up  at  him  blankly. 

"Go!"  he  said  sternly.  "Go  back  to  your  own  kind 
and  I  will  go  on,  alone.  Don't  stop  to  talk  any  more. 
Go  now!" 

Rhoda  turned  and  looked  at  Cesca  squatting  by  the 
horses,  at  Molly  hovering  near  by  with  anxious  eyes. 
Never  to  make  the  dawn  camp,  again — never  to  hear 
Molly  humming  over  the  stew-pot!  Suddenly  Rhoda 
felt  that  if  she  could  have  Molly  with  her  she  would  not 
be  so  utterly  separated  from  Kut-le. 

"Let  Molly  go  with  me!"  she  said.     "I  love  Molly!" 

"No!"  said  Kut-le.  "You  are  to  forget  the  desert 
and  the  Indians.     Go  now!" 

With  awe  and  grief  too  deep  for  words,  Rhoda  obeyed 
the  young  chief's  stern  eyes.  She  clambered  down  the 
rough  trail  to  a  break  in  the  canon  wall,  then,  clinging 
with  hands  and  feet,  down  the  sheer  side.  The  tall  figure . 
beautiful  in  its  perfect  symmetry  stood  immovable,  the 


THE  RUINED  MISSION  289 

face  never  turning  from  her.  Rhoda  knew  that  she  never 
was  to  forget  this  picture  of  him.  At  the  foot  of  the  canon 
wall  she  stood  long,  looking  up.  Far,  far  above,  the 
straight  figure  stood  in  lonely  majesty,  gazing  at  the  life 
for  which  he  had  sacrificed  so  much.  Rhoda  looked 
until,  tear-blinded,  she  turned  away. 


CHAPTER  XXI 

THE  END  OF  THE  TRAIL 

npHE  canon  was  sandy  and  rough.  Rhoda  could  see 
the  monastery  set  among  olive-trees.  Beyond  this 
where  the  canon  opened  to  the  desert  she  knew  that  the 
white  men's  camp  lay,  though  she  could  not  see  it. 

She  had  no  fear  of  losing  her  way,  with  the  canon  walls 
hemming  her  in.  She  still  was  sobbing  softly  to  herself 
as  she  started  along  the  foot  of  the  wall.  She  tramped 
steadily  for  a  time,  then  she  stopped  abruptly.  She 
would  not  go  on!  The  sacrifice  was  too  much!  She 
looked  back  to  the  canon  top.  Kut-le  had  disappeared. 
Already  he  must  be  only  a  memory  to  her! 

Then  of  a  sudden  Rhoda  felt  a  sense  of  shame  that  her 

strength  of  purpose  should  be  so  much  less  than  the 

Indian's.     At  least,  she  could  carry  in  her  heart  forever 

the  example  of  his  fortitude.     It  would  be  like  his  warm 

hand  guiding  and  lifting  her  through  the  hard  days  and 

years  to  come.     Strangely  comforted  and  strengthened 

by  this  thought,  Rhoda  started  on  through  the  familiar 

wilderness  of  the  desert. 

This,  she  thought,  was  her  last  moment  alone  in  the 

291 


292  THE  HEART  OF  THE  DESERT 

desert,  for  without  Kut-le  she  would  never  return  to  it. 
She  watched  the  gray-green  cactus  against  the  painted 
rock  heaps.  She  watched  the  brown,  tortured  crest  of 
Ihe  canon  against  the  violet  sky.  She  watched  the  melt- 
ing haze  above  the  monastery,  the  buzzards  sliding  through 
the  motionless  air,  the  far  multi-colored  ranges,  as  if 
she  would  etch  forever  on  her  memory  the  world  that 
Kut-le  loved.  And  she  knew  that,  let  her  body  wander 
where  it  must,  her  spirit  would  forever  belong  to  the 
desert. 

Rhoda  passed  the  monastery,  where  she  thought  she 
saw  men  among  the  olive-trees.  But  she  did  not  stop. 
She  gradually  worked  out  into  an  easy  trail  that  led 
toward  the  open  desert. 

The  little  camp  at  the  canon's  mouth  was  preparing  to 
move  when  Jack  Newman  jumped  excitedly  to  his  feet. 
Coming  toward  them  through  the  sand  was  a  boyish 
figure  that  moved  with  a  beautiful  stride,  tireless  and 
swift.  As  the  newcomer  drew  nearer  they  saw  that  she 
was  erect  and  lithe,  slender  but  full-chested  and  that  her 
face — 

"Rhoda!"  shouted  John  DeWitt. 

In  a  moment,  Jack  was  grasping  one  of  her  hands  and 
John  DeWitt  the  other,  while  Billy  Porter  and  Carlos 
shook  each  other's  hands  excitedly. 

"Gee  whiz!"  cried  Jack.     "John  said  you  were  in 


THE  END  OF  THE  TRAIL  293 

superb  condition,  but  I  didn^t  realize  that  it  meant  this ! 
Why,  Rhoda,  if  it  wasn't  for  your  hair  and  eyes  and  the 
dimple  in  your  chin,  I  wouldn't  know  you!" 
'    "Are    you    all    right?"    asked    DeWitt    anxiously. 
"  Where  in  the  world  did  you  come  from  ?    Where  have 
you  been  ?'* 

"Were  you  hurt  much  in  the  fight?"  cried  Rhoda. 
"Oh!"  looking  about  at  the  eager  listeners,  "that  was 
the  most  awful  thing  I  ever  saw,  that  fight!  And  Billy 
Porter,  you  are  all  right,  I  see.  How  shall  I  ever  repay 
you  all  for  what  you  have  done  for  me!" 

"  Gosh !"  exclaimed  Porter.  "  I'm  repaid  just  by  look- 
ing at  you!  If  that  pison  Piute  hasn't  made  monkeys  of 
us  all,  I'd  like  to  know  who  has!  How  did  you  get  away 
from  him?" 

"He  let  me  go,"  answered  Rhoda  simply. 

The  men  gasped. 

"What  was  the  matter  with  him !"  ejaculated  Porter. 
"Was  he  sick  or  dying?" 

"No,"  said  Rhoda  mechanically;  "I  guess  he  saw  that 
it  was  useless." 

"And  he  dropped  you  in  the  desert  without  water  or 
food  or  horse!"  cried  DeWitt.     "Oh,  that  Apache  cur!" 

"No!  No!"  exclaimed  Rhoda.  "He  dropped  me  not 
far  from  here.     We  saw  the  camp  and  he  sent  me  to  it." 

Tli*i  men  looked  at  each  other  incredulously.     Jack 


294  THE  HEART  OF  THE  DESERT 

Newman's  face  was  puzzled.  He  knew  Kut-le  and  it 
was  hard  to  believe  that  he  would  give  up  what  he  already 
had  won.     DeWitt  spoke  excitedly. 

"Then  he's  still  within  our  reach !     Hurry  up,  friends!" 

Rhoda  turned  swiftly  to  the  gaunt-faced  man.  Then 
she  spoke  very  distinctly,  with  that  in  her  deep  gray  eyes 
that  stirred  each  listener  with  a  vague  sense  of  loss  and 
yearning. 

"I  don't  want  Kut-le  harmed!  I  shan't  tell  you  any- 
thing that  will  help  you  locate  him.  He  did  me  no  harm. 
On  the  contrary,  he  made  me  a  well  woman,  physically 
and  mentally.  If  I  can  forgive  his  effrontery  in  stealing 
me,  surely  you  all  will  grant  me  this  favor  to  top  all  that 
you  have  done  for  me." 

Porter's  under  lip  protruded  with  the  old  obstinate  look. 

"That  fellow's  got  to  be  made  an  example  of,  Miss 
Rhoda,"  he  said.  "  No  white  that's  a  man  can  stand  for 
what  he's  done.  He's  bound  to  be  hunted  down,  you 
know.     If  we  don't,  others  will!" 

Rhoda  turned  impatiently  to  DeWitt. 

"John,  after  all  our  talk,  you  must  understand!  You 
know  what  good  Kut-le  has  done  me  and  how  big  it  was 
of  him  to  let  me  go.  Make  them  promise  to  let  him 
alone !" 

But  there  was  no  answering  look  of  understanding  in 
De Witt's  worn  face. 


THE  END  OF  THE  TRAIL  295 

"Rhoda,  you  havenH  any  idea  what  you're  asking! 
It  isn't  a  question  of  forgiveness !  You  don't  get  the  point 
of  view  that  you  ought !  Why,  the  whole  country  is  worked 
up  over  this  thing!  The  newspapers  are  full  of  it.  Just 
as  Porter  says,  the  Apache's  got  to  be  made  an  example  of. 
We  will  hunt  him  down,  if  it  takes  a  year!" 

So  far  Jack  Newman  had  said  nothing.  Rhoda  looked 
at  him  as  if  he  were  her  last  hope. 

"Oh,  Jack!"  she  cried.  "He  was  your  friend,  your 
dearest  friend!  And  he  sent  me  back!  Why,  you  never 
would  have  got  me  if  he  hadn't  voluntarily  let  me  go! 
He  is  wonderful  on  the  trail!" 

"So  we  found!"  said  DeWitt  grimly. 

But  Rhoda  was  watching  Jack. 

"Rhoda,"  Jack  said  at  last,  "I  know  how  you  fee!.  I 
know  what  a  bully  chap  Kut-le  is.  This  just  about  does 
me  up.  But  what  he's  done  can't  be  let  go.  We've  got 
to  punish  him!" 

"'Punish  him!'"  repeated  Rhoda.  "Just  what  d© 
you  mean  by  that?" 

"We  mean,"  answered  DeWitt,  "that  when  we  find 
him,  I'll  shoot  him!" 

"  No !"  cried  Rhoda.     " No!    Why  he  sent  me  backr 

The  three  men  looked  at  Rhoda  uncomfortably  and  at 
each  other  wonderingly.  A  woman's  magnanimity  is 
never  to  be  understood  by  a  man! 


296  THE  HEART  OF  THE  DESERT 

*^Are  you  tired,  Rhoda?"  asked  DeWitt  abruptly. 
"  Do  you  feel  able  to  take  to  the  saddle  at  once  ?" 

"  I'm  all  right !"  exclaimed  Rhoda  impatiently.  "  What 
are  your  plans?" 

DeWitt  pointed  out  across  the  sand  to  the  canon  wall. 
A  line  of  slender  footprints  led  through  the  level  wastes  as 
plainly  as  if  on  new-fallen  snow. 

'*  We  will  follow  your  trail,"  he  said. 

There  was  silence  for  an  instant  in  the  little  camp  while 
the  men  eyed  the  girlish  face,  flushed  and  vivid  beneath  the 
tan.  As  it  had  come  when  DeWitt  had  rescued  her,  the 
old  sense  of  the  appalling  nature  of  her  experience  was 
returning  to  her  again.  With  sickening  clarity  she  was 
getting  the  men's  view-point.  The  old  Rhoda  would 
have  protested,  would  have  fought  desperately  and 
blindly.  The  new  Rhoda  had  lived  through  hours  of 
hopeless  battle  ^vith  circumstance.  She  had  learned 
the  desert's  lesson  of  patience. 

"I  have  thought,"  she  said  slowly,  "so  much  of  the  joy 
of  my  return  to  you !  God  only  knows  how  the  picture 
of  it  has  kept  me  alive  from  day  to  day.  All  your  joy 
seems  swallowed  up  in  your  thirst  for  revenge.  All  right, 
my  friends.     Only,  wherever  you  go,  I  go  too !" 

Billy  Porter  shook  his  head  with  a  muttered  "Gosh!" 
as  if  the  ways  of  women  were  quite  beyond  him. 

"  I  think  you  had  better  ride  on  to  the  ranch  with  Car- 


THE  END  OF  THE  TRAIL  297 

los,"  said  DeWitt,  "while  we  take  up  Kut-Ie's  trail. 
This  will  be  no  trip  for  a  woman." 

"You're  foolish!"  exclaimed  Jack.  "We'll  not  let 
her  out  of  our  sight  again.  You  can't  tell  what  stunt 
Kut-le  is  up  to!" 

"That's  right!"  said  Porter.  "It'll  be  hard  on  her, 
but  she'd  better  come  with  us." 

"Don't  trouble  to  discuss  the  matter,"  said  Rhoda 
coolly.  "I  am  coming  with  you.  Katherine  probably 
sent  some  clothing  for  me,  didn't  she  ?" 

"Why,  yes!"  exclaimed  Jack.  "That  was  one  of  the 
first  things  she  thought  of.  She  sent  her  own  riding 
things  for  you.  She  spoke  of  the  little  silk  dress  you  had 
on  and  said  you  hadn't  anything  appropriate  in  your 
trunks  for  the  rough  trip  you  might  have  to  take  after  we 
found  you." 

Jack  was  talking  rapidly,  as  if  to  relieve  the  tension  of 
the  situation.  He  undid  a  pack  that  he  had  kept  tied  to 
his  saddle  during  all  the  long  weeks  of  pursuit. 

"We  can  rig  up  a  dressing-room  of  blankets  in  no  time," 
he  went  on,  putting  a  bundle  into  Rhoda's  hands. 

Rhoda  stood  holding  the  bundle  in  silence  while  all 
hands  set  to  rigging  up  her  dressing-room.  She  felt 
suddenly  cool-headed  and  resourceful.  Her  mind  was 
forced  away  from  her  own  sorrow  to  the  solution  of 
another  heavy  problem.    In  the  little  blanket  tent  she 


298  THE  HEART  OF  THE  DESERT 

unrolled  the  bundle  and  smiled  tenderly  at  the  evidence 
of  Katherine's  thoughtfulness.  There  were  underwear, 
handkerchiefs,  toilet  articles  and  Katherine's  own  pretty 
corduroy  divided  skirt  and  Norfolk  jacket  with  a  little 
blouse  and  Ascot  scarf. 

Rhoda  took  off  her  buckskins  and  tattered  blue  shirt 
slowly,  with  lips  that  would  quiver.  This  was  the  last, 
the  very  last  of  Kut-le!  She  dressed  herself  in  Elather- 
ine's  clothes,  then  folded  up  the  buckskins  and  shirt. 
She  would  keep  them,  always  1  When  she  came  out  from 
the  tent  she  stepped  awkwardly,  for  the  skirts  bothered 
her,  and  Jack,  waiting  near  by,  smiled  at  her.  At  another 
time  Rhoda  would  have  joined  in  his  amusement,  but 
now  she  asked  soberly: 

"Which  horse  is  for  me  ?" 

"Rhoda!"  cried  DeWitt,  "I  really  wouldn't  know  you! 
I  thought  I  never  could  want  you  anything  but  ethereal, 
but — Jack !    Isn't  she  wonderful  1" 

Jack  grinned.  Rhoda,  tanned  and  oval-cheeked,  and 
straight  of  back  and  shoulder,  was  not  to  be  compared 
with  the  invalid  Rhoda. 

"  Gee  1"  he  said.    "  Wait  till  Katherine  sees  her !" 

Rhoda  shrugged  her  shoulders. 

"  My  pleasure  in  all  that  is  swallowed  up  by  this  savage 
obsession  of  yours." 

John  De  Witt  led  out  Rhoda's  pony. 


THE  END  OF  THE  TRAIL  £99 

"You  don't  understand,  dear,"  he  said.  ''You  canH 
doubt  my  heavenly  joy  at  having  you  safe.  But  the 
outrage  of  it  all —     That  Apache  devil!" 

"I  do  understand,  John,"  answered  Rhoda  wearily. 
"Don't  try  to  explain  again.  I  know  just  how  you  all 
feel.     Only,  I  will  not  have  Kut-le  killed." 

"Rhoda,"  said  DeWitt  hoarsely,  "I  shall  kill  him  as  I 
would  a  yellow  dog!" 

Rhoda  turned  away.  The  line  of  march  was  quickly 
formed.  Porter  led.  Carlos  closed  the  rear.  DeWitt 
and  Newman  rode  on  either  side  of  Rhoda.  They  were 
not  long  in  reaching  the  trail  down  the  canon  walL 
Here  they  paused,  for  the  rough  ascent  was  impossible 
for  the  horses.  The  men  looked  questioningly  at  Rhoda 
but  she  volunteered  no  information.  She  believed  that 
Kut-le  had  left  the  camp  at  the  top  long  since.  If  for  any 
reason  he  had  delayed  his  going,  she  knew  that  he  had 
watched  every  movement  in  the  white  camp  and  could 
protect  himself  easily. 

"We  can  leave  Carlos  with  the  horses,"  said  Porter^ 
"while  we  climb  up  and  see  where  the  trail  leads." 

Rhoda  dismounted,  still  silent,  and  followed  Porter 
and  DeWitt  up  the  trail,  Jack  following  her.  The  trail 
had  been  difficult  to  descend  and  was  very  hard  to  ascend. 
There  was  a  dumb  purposefulness  about  the  men's 
movements  that  sickened  Rhoda.     She  had  seen  too 


300  THE  HEART  OF  THE  DESERT 

much  of  men  in  this  mood  of  late  and  she  feared  them. 
She  knew  that  all  the  amenities  of  civilization  had  been 
stripped  from  them  and  that  she  was  only  pitting  her 
feeble  strength  against  a  world-old  instinct. 

Her  heart  was  beating  heavily  as  they  neared  the  top, 
but  not  from  the  hard  climb.  She  was  inured  to  difficult 
trails.  There  was  a  sheer  pull,  shoulder  high,  at  the 
top.  The  four  accomplished  it  in  one  breathless  group, 
then  stood  as  if  paralyzed. 

Sunlight  flickered  through  the  pines.  Molly  and 
Cesca  prepared  the  trail  packs.  And  Kut-le  sat  beside 
the  spring,  eying  his  visitors  grimly.  He  looked  very 
cool  and  well  groomed  in  comparison  with  his  trail-worn 
adversaries. 

DeWitt  pulled  out  his  Colt. 

"  I  think  I  have  you,  this  time,"  he  said. 

"Yes?"  asked  Kut-le,  without  stirring.  "And  what 
are  you  going  to  do  with  me?" 

"I'm  going  to  take  about  a  minute  to  tell  you  what  I 
think  of  you,  and  give  you  another  minute  in  which  to 
offer  up  some  sort  of  an  Indian  prayer.  Then  I'm  going 
to  shoot  you !" 

Kut-le  glanced  from  DeWitt  to  Rhoda,  thence  to 
Porter  and  Newman.  Porter's  under  lip  protruded. 
Jack  looked  sick.    Both  the  men  had  their  hands  on 


THE  END  OF  THE  TRAIL  SOI 

their  guns.  Rhoda  moistened  her  lips  to  speak,  bul 
Kut-le  was  before  her. 

"  Are  you  a  good  shot,  DeWitt  ?"  he  asked.  "  Because 
I  know  that  Jack  and  Porter  are  sure  in  their  aim." 

"You'll  never  know  whether  I  am  or  not,"  replied 
DeWitt.  "  You'd  better  be  thankful  that  we  are  shooting 
you  instead  of  hanging  you,  as  you  deserve,  you  cur! 
You'd  better  be  glad  you're  dying!  You  haven't  a 
white  friend  left  in  the  country!  All  your  ambition  and 
hard  work  have  come  to  this  because  you  couldn't  change 
your  Indian  hide,  after  all!  Now  then,  say  your  prayers! 
Rhoda,  cover  up  your  eyes!" 

Kut-le  rose  slowly.  The  whites  noticed  with  a  little 
pang  of  shame  that  he  made  no  attempt  to  touch  his  gun 
which  lay  on  the  ground  beside  him. 

"You'd  better  let  Jack  and  Billy  shoot  with  you,"  he 
said  quietly.  "You  won't  like  to  think  about  the  shot 
that  killed  me,  afterward.  It  isn't  nice,  I've  heard,  the 
memory  of  killing  a  man!" 

"I'm  shooting  an  Indian,  not  a  man!"  said  DeWitt. 
"Say  your  prayers!" 

The  spell  of  fear  that  had  paralyzed  Rhoda  snapped. 
Before  Jack  or  Billy  could  detain  her  she  ran  to  DeWitt's 
side  and  grasped  his  arm. 

"John!  John!  Listen  to  me,  one  moment!  Look 
at  me!     In  spite  of  all,  look,  see  what  he's  made  of  me, 


302  THE  HEART  OF  THE  DESERT 

for  you  to  reap  the  harvest!  Look  at  me!  I  beg  of  youj 
do  not  shoot  him!  Let  him  go!  Make  him  promise  to 
leave  the  country.  Make  him  promise  anything!  He 
keeps  promises  because  he  is  an  Indian!  But  if  you  have 
any  love  for  me,  if  you  care  anything  for  my  happiness, 
don't  kill  Kut-le!  I  tell  you  I  will  never  marry  you  with 
his  blood  on  your  hands!'* 

A  look  curiously  hard,  curiously  suspicious,  came  to 
De Witt's  eyes.  Without  lowering  his  gun  or  looking 
at  the  girl,  he  answered: 

"You  plead  too  well,  Rhoda!  I  want  this  Indian  t© 
pay  for  more  torture  of  mine  than  you  can  dream  of! 
Get  back  out  of  the  way!    Are  you  ready,  Kut-le?" 

Rhoda's  slender  body  was  rigid.  She  moved  away 
from  DeWitt  until  she  could  encompass  the  four  men 
in  her  glance.  With  arms  folded  across  her  arching 
chest  she  spoke  with  a  richness  in  her  voice  that  none  of 
her  hearers  ever  could  forget. 

"Remember,  friends,  you  have  forced  me  to  this! 
You  had  me  safe,  but  you  thought  more  of  revenge  than 
you  did  of  my  safety!  John,  if  you  kill  Kut-le  you  will 
kill  the  man  that  I  love  with  all  the  passion  of  my  soul!" 

DeWitt  gasped  as  if  he  had  been  struck.  Newman  and 
Porter  stared  dizzily.  Only  Kut-le  stood  composed. 
His  eyes  with  the  old  look  of  tragic  tenderness  were 
fastened  on  the  girl. 


THE  END  OF  THE  TRAIL  803 

"Are  you  going  to  shoot  him  now,  John?" 

"Rhoda!"  cried  DeWitt  fiercely.  "Rhoda!  Do  you 
realize  what  you  are  saying?" 

"Yes,"  said  Rhoda  steadily.  "I  realize  that  a  force 
greater  than  race  pride,  greater  than  self  love,  greater 
than  intelligence  or  fear,  is  gripping  me!  John,  I  love  this 
man!  He  and  I  have  lived  through  experiences  together 
too  great  for  words.  He  had  me  in  the  hollow  of  his 
hand  but  he  sent  me  back  to  you,  his  enemy.  You  say 
that  you  love  me.  But  you  would  not  listen  to  my 
pleading,  you  would  not  grant  me  the  only  favor  I  ever 
asked  you,  the  granting  of  which  could  not  have  harmed 
you." 

Her  listeners  did  not  stir.     Rhoda  moistened  her  lips. 

"Kut-le Think  what  he  sacrificed  for  me.     He 

gave  up  his  dearest  friendships.  He  gave  up  his  honor 
and  his  country  and  risked  his  life,  for  me.  And  then 
when  he  thought  the  sacrifice  would  prove  too  great  on 
my  part,  he  gave  me  up!  I  ask  you  to  give  him  his  life, 
for  me.  Because,  John,  and  Billy  Porter,  and  Jack,  I 
tell  you  that  I  love  him!" 

"My  God!"  panted  DeWitt.  "Rhoda,  don't!  You 
don't  know  what  you're  saying!     Rhoda!" 

Rhoda  looked  off  where  the  afternoon  sun  lay  like 
the  very  glory  of  God  upon  the  chaos  of  range  and  desert. 
Almost — ^almost  the  secret  of  life  itself  seemed  to  bare 


304  THE  HEART  OF  THE  DESERT 

itself  to  the  girl's  wide  eyes.  The  white  men  watched 
her  aghast.  There  was  a  desperate,  hunted  look  in 
DeWitt^s  tired  face.     Rhoda  turned  back. 

"I  know  what  I'm  saying/'  she  replied.  "But  I  tell 
you  that  this  thing  is  bigger  than  I  am!  I  have  fought  it, 
defied  it,  ignored  it.  It  only  grows  the  stronger!  I 
know  that  this  comes  to  humans  but  rarely.  Yet  it  has 
come  to  me!  It  is  the  greatest  force  in  the  world!  It 
is  what  makes  life  persist!  To  most  people  it  comes 
only  in  small  degree  and  they  call  that  love!  To  me, 
in  this  boundless  country,  it  has  come  boundlessly.  It 
is  greater  than  what  you  know  as  love.  It  is  greater 
than  I  am.  I  don't  know  what  sorrow  or  what  joy  my 
decision  may  bring  me  but — ^John,  I  want  you  to  let 
Kut-le  live  that  I  may  marry  him!" 

DeWitt's  arm  dropped  as  if  dead. 

"Rhoda,"  he  repeated,  agonizedly,  "you  don't  know 
what  you  are  saying!" 

"Don't  I?"  asked  Rhoda  steadily.  "Have  I  fought 
my  fight  without  coming  to  know  the  risk?  Don't  I 
know  what  atavism  means,  and  race  alienation,  and 
hunger  for  my  own  ?  But  this  which  has  come  to  me  is 
stronger  than  all  these.  I  love  Kut-le,  John,  and  I  ask 
you  to  give  his  life  to  me!" 

Still  Kut-le  stood  motionless,  as  did  Jack  and  Porter. 
DeWitt,  without  taking  his  eyes  from  Rhoda's,  slowly, 


THE  END  OF  THE  TRAIL  305 

very  slowly,  slipped  his  Colt  back  into  his  belt.  For  a 
long  moment  he  gazed  at  the  wonder  of  the  girl's  exalted 
face.    Then  he  passed  his  hands  across  his  eyes. 

"  I  give  up!"  he  said  quietly.  Then  he  turned,  walked 
slowly  to  the  canon  edge,  and  clambered  deliberately 
down  the  trail. 

Jack  and  Billy  stood  dazed  for  a  moment  longer,  then 
Porter  cleared  his  throat. 

"Miss  Rhoda,  don't  do  this!  Now  don't  you!  Come 
with  us  back  to  the  ranch.  Just  for  a  month  till  you 
get  away  from  this  Injun's  influence!  Come  back  and 
talk  to  Mrs.  Newman.  Come  back  and  get  some 
other  woman's  ideas!  For  God's  sake.  Miss  Rhoda, 
don't  ruin  your  life  this  way!" 

"When  Katherine  knows  it  all,  she'll  understand  and 
agree  with  me,"  replied  Rhoda.  "Jack,  try  to  remember 
everything  I  said,  to  tell  Katherine." 

"/  tell  her!"  cried  Jack.  "Why  can't  you  tell  her 
yourself?    What  are  you  planning  to  do ?" 

"That  is  for  Kut-Ie  to  say,"  answered  Rhoda. 

"Rhoda,"  said  Jack,  and  his  voice  shook  with  earnest- 
ness, "listen!  Listen  to  me,  your  old  playmate!  I 
know  how  fascinating  Kut-le  is.  Lord  help  us,  girl,  he's 
been  my  best  friend  for  years !  And  in  spite  of  everything, 
he's  my  friend  still.  But,  Rhoda,  it  won't  do!  It 
won't  work  out  right.     He's  a  fine  man  for  men.     But  as 

20 


306  THE  HEART  OF  THE  DESERT 

a  husband  to  a  white  woman,  he's  still  an  Indian;  and 
after  the  first,  that  must  always  come  between  you! 
Think  again,  Rhoda!     I  tell  you,  it  won't  do!" 

Rhoda's  voice  still  was  clear  and  high,  still  bore  the  note 
of  exaltation. 

"  I  have  thought  again  and  again,  Jack.  There  could 
be  no  end  to  the  thinking,  so  I  gave  it  up!" 

Kut-le's  eyes  were  on  the  girl,  inscrutable  and  calm  as 
the  desert  itself,  but  still  he  did  not  speak. 

Billy  Porter  wiped  his  forehead  again  and  again  on  a 
cloth  that  bore  no  resemblance  to  a  handkerchief. 

"  I  can't  put  up  any  kind  of  an  argument.  All  I  can 
say  is  I  don't  see  how  any  one  like  you  could  do  it.  Miss 
Rhoda!  Just  think!  His  folks  is  Injims,  dirty,  blanket 
Injuns!  They  scratch  themselves  from  one  day's  end 
to  the  other.  They  will  be  your  relatives,  too!  They'll 
be  hanging  round  you  all  the  time.  I'm  not  a  married 
man  but  I've  noticed  when  you  marry  a  man  you  gener- 
ally marry  his  whole  dam  family.  I — ^I — oh,  there's  no 
use  talking  to  her!    Let's  take  her  away  by  force,  Jack!" 

Rhoda  caught  her  breath  and  instinctively  moved 
toward  Kut-le.    But  Jack  did  not  stir. 

"No,"  he  answered;  "I've  done  all  the  chasing  and 
trying  to  kidnap  that  I  care  about.  But,  Rhoda,  once 
and  for  all  I  tell  you  that  I  think  you  are  doing  you  and 
yours  a  deadly  wrong!" 


THE  END  OF  THE  TRAIL  307 

"Perhaps  I  am/'  replied  Rhoda  steadily.  "I  make 
no  pretense  of  knowing.  At  any  rate,  I'm  going  to  stay 
with  Kut-le." 

"For  heaven's  sake,  Rhoda,"  cried  Jack,  "at  least 
come  back  to  the  ranch  and  let  Katherine  give  you  a 
wedding.  She'll  never  forgive  me  for  leaving  you  this 
way!'^ 

Porter  turned  on  Jack  savagely. 

"Look  here!"  he  shouted.  "Are  you  crazy  too! 
You're  talking  about  her  marrying  this  Apache!" 

Jack  spoke  through  his  teeth  obstinately. 

"  I've  sweated  blood  over  this  thing  as  long  as  I  pro- 
pose to.  If  Rhoda  wants  to  marry  Kut-le,  that's  her 
business.  I  always  did  like  Kut-le  and  I  always  shall. 
I've  done  my  full  duty  in  trying  to  get  Rhoda  back. 
Now  that  she  says  that  she  cares  for  him,  it's  neither  your 
nor  my  business — ^nor  DeWitt's.  But  I  want  them  to 
come  back  to  the  ranch  with  me  and  let  Katherine  give 
them  a  nice  wedding." 

"But — ^but — "  spluttered  Porter.  Then  he  stopped  as 
the  good  sense  of  Jack's  attitude  suddenly  came  home  to 
him.  "All  right,"  he  said  sullenly.  "I'm  like  DeWitt. 
I  pass.  Only — ^if  you  try  to  take  this  Injun  back 
to  the  ranch,  he'll  never  get  there  alive.  He'll  be 
lynched  by  the  first  bunch  of  cowboys  or  miners  we 
strike.     Miss    Rhoda    nor   you  can't  stop  'em.     You 


3#8  THE  HEART  OF  THE  DESERT 

want  to  remember  how  the  whole  country  is  worked  up 
©ver  this!" 

Rhoda  whitened. 

"Do  you  think  that  too,  Jack  and  Kut-le?" 

For  the  first  time,  Jack  spoke  to  Kut-le. 

"What  do  you  think,  Kut-le?"  he  said. 

"Porter's  right,  of  course,"  answered  Kut-le.  "My 
plan  always  has  been  to  slip  down  into  Mexico  and  then 
go  to  Paris  for  a  year  or  two.  IVe  got  enough  money 
for  that.  IVe  always  wanted  to  do  some  work  in  the 
Sorbonne.  By  the  end  of  two  years  I  think  the  South- 
west will  be  willing  to  welcome  us  back." 

Nothing  could  have  so  simplified  the  situation  as 
Kut-le's  calm  reference  to  his  plans  for  carrying  on  his 
profession.  He  stood  in  his  well-cut  clothes,  not  an 
Indian,  but  a  well-bred,  clean-cut  man  of  the  world. 
Even  Porter  recognized  this,  and  with  a  sigh  he  resigned 
himself  to  the  inevitable. 

"You  folks  better  come  down  to  the  monastery  and  be 
married,"  he  said.     "There's  a  padre  down  there." 

"Gee!    What'll  I  say  to  Katherine!"  groaned  Jack. 

"Katherine  will  understand,"  said  Rhoda.  "Kather- 
ine always  loved  Kut-le.  Even  now  I  can't  believe  that 
she  has  altogether  turned  against  him." 

Jack  Newman  heaved  a  sigh. 

"Well,"  he  said,  "Kut-le,  will  you  and  Rhoda  come 


THE  END  OF  THE  TRAIL  309 

down  to  the  monastery  with  us  and  be  married  ?"  His 
young  voice  was  solemn. 

"Yes,"  answered  Kut-le,  *'if  Rhoda  is  agreed." 

Rhoda^s  face  still  wore  the  look  of  exaltation. 

"I  will  come!"  she  said. 

Kut-le  did  not  let  his  glance  rest  on  her,  but  turned  te 
Billy. 

"Mr.  Porter,"  he  said  courteously,  "will  you  come  to 
my  wedding  ?" 

Billy  looked  dazed.  He  stared  from  Kut-le  to  Rhoda, 
and  Rhoda  smiled  at  him.     His  last  defense  was  down. 

"I'll  be  there,  thanks  1"  he  said. 

"  There  is  a  side  trail  that  we  can  take  my  horses  down," 
said  Kut-le. 

They  all  were  silent  as  Kut-le  led  the  way  down  the 
side  trail  and  by  a  circuitous  path  to  the  monastery. 
He  made  his  way  up  through  a  rude,  grass-grown  path 
to  a  cloistered  front  that  was  in  fairly  good  repair. 
Here  they  dismounted  and  waited  while  Kut-le  pulled  a 
long  bell-rope  that  hung  beside  a  battered  door.  There 
was  not  long  to  wait  before  the  door  opened  and  a  white- 
faced  old  padre  stood  staring  in  amazement  at  the  little 
group. 

Kut-le  talked  rapidly,  now  in  Spanish  and  now  in 
English,  and  at  last  the  padre  turned  to  Rhoda  with  a 
smile. 


310  THE  HEART  OF  THE  DESERT 

"  And  you  ?"  he  asked.     "  You  are  quite  willing  ?" 

"Yes,"  said  Rhoda,  though  her  voice  trembled  in  spite 
of  her. 

''And  you?"  asked  the  padre,  turning  to  Jack  a»d 
Billy. 

The  two  men  nodded. 

"Then  enter!"  said  the  padre. 

And  with  Cesca  and  Molly  bringing  up  the  rear,  the 
wedding  party  followed  the  padre  down  a  long  adobe 
hallway  across  a  courtyard  where  palms  still  shaded  a 
trickling  fountain,  into  a  dim  chapel,  with  grim  adobe 
walls  and  pews  hacked  and  worn  by  centuries  of  use. 

The  padre  was  excited  and  pleased. 

"If,"  he  said,  "you  all  will  sit,  I  will  call  my  twe 
choir-boys  who  are  at  work  in  the  olive  orchard.  They 
are  not  far  away.  We  are  always  ready  to  hold  service 
for  such  as  may  wish  to  attend." 

He  disappeared  through  the  door  of  the  choir  loft  and 
returned  shortly,  followed  by  two  tall  Mexican  half- 
breeds,  clad  in  priceless  surplices  that  had  been  wrought 
in  Spain  two  centuries  before.  They  lighted  some  meager 
candles  before  the  altar  and  began  their  chant  in  soft, 
well-trained  voices. 

The  padre  turned  and  waited.  Kut-le  rose  and, 
taking  Rhoda's  hand,  he  led  her  before  the  aged  priest. 

To  the  two  white  men  the  scene  was  unforgetable. 


THE  END  OF  THE  TRAIL  311 

The  dim  old  chapel,  scene  of  who  could  tell  what  heart- 
burnings of  desert  history;  the  priest  of  the  ancient 
religion;  standing  before  him  the  two  young  people,  one 
of  a  vanishing  and  one  of  a  conquering  race,  both  start- 
lingly  vivid  in  the  perfection  of  their  beauty;  and,  looking 
on,  the  two  wide-eyed  squaws  with  aboriginal  wonder  in 
their  eyes. 

It  was  but  a  moment  before  Kut-le  had  slipped  a  ring 
on  Rhoda^s  finger;  but  a  moment  before  the  priest  had 
pronounced  them  man  and  wife. 

As  the  two  left  the  priest,  Jack  kissed  Rhoda  solemnly 
twice. 

"Once  for  Katherine,"  he  said,  "and  once  for  me.  I 
don't  understand  much  how  it  all  has  come  about,  but  I 
know  Kut-le,  and  I'm  willing  to  trust  you  to  him." 

Kut-le  gave  Jack  a  clear  look. 

"Jack,  I'll  never  forget  that  speech.  If  I  live  long 
enough,  I'll  repay  you  for  it." 

"And  an  Indian  keeps  his  promises,"  said  Rhoda 
sofdy. 

Billy  Porter  was  not  to  be  outdone. 

"Now  that  it's  all  over  with,  I'll  say  that  Kut-le  is  a 
good  fighter  and  that  you  are  the  handsomest  couple 
I  ever  saw." 

Kut-le  chuckled. 

"  Cesca,  am  I  such  a  heap  fool  ?" 


sn  THE  HEART  OF  THE  DESERT 

Cesca  sniffed. 

"  White  squaws  no  good !    They — " 

But  Molly  elbowed  Cesca  aside. 

"You  no  listen  to  her!'*  she  said. 

«0  Molly!  Molly!"  cried  Rhoda.  "You  are  a 
woman!  I'm  glad  you  were  here!"  And  the  men's  eyes 
blurred  a  little  as  the  Indian  woman  hugged  the  white 
girl  to  her  and  crooned  over  her. 

"You  no  cry!  You  no  cry!  When  you  come  back, 
Molly  come  to  your  house,  take  care  of  you!" 

After  a  moment  Rhoda  wiped  her  eyes,  and  Kut-le, 
who  had  been  giving  the  old  padre  something  that  the 
old  fellow  eyed  with  joy,  took  the  girl's  hand  gently. 

"Come!"  he  said. 

At  the  door  the  others  watched  them  mount  and  ride 
away.  The  two  sat  their  horses  with  the  grace  that 
comes  of  long,  hard  trails. 

"Maybe  I've  done  wrong,"  said  Jack.  "But  I  don't 
feel  so.     I'm  awful  sorry  for  DeWitt." 

"I'm  awful  sorry  for  DeWitt,"  agteed  Porter,  "but 
I'm  sorrier  for  myself.  I'm  older  than  DeWitt  a  whole 
lot.     He's  young  enough  to  get  over  anything.'* 

When  they  had  ridden  out  of  sight  of  the  monastery, 
Kut-le  pulled  in  his  horse  and  dismounted.  Then  he 
stood  looking  up  into  Rhoda' s  face.    In  his  eyes  was  the 


THE  END  OF  THE  TRAIL  313 

same  look  of  exaltation  that  made  hers  wonderful. 
He  put  his  hand  on  her  knee. 

"WeVe  a  long  ride  ahead  of  us,"  he  said  softly.  "I 
want  something  that  I  can^t  have  on  horseback." 

Rhoda  laid  her  hand  on  his. 

"  You  meant  it  all,  Rhoda  ?  It  was  not  only  to  save 
my  life?" 

"  Do  you  have  to  ask  that  ?"  said  Rhoda. 

"No!"  answered  Kut-le  simply.  "You  see  I  waited 
for  you.  I  knew  that  they  would  bring  you  back.  And 
if  you  had  not  spoken,  I  would  rather  have  died.  I  had 
made  up  my  mind  to  that.  O  my  love!  It  has  come  to 
us  greatly!" 

Then,  as  if  the  flood,  controlled  all  these  months,  had 
burst  its  bonds,  Kut-le  lifted  Rhoda  from  her  saddle 
to  his  arms  and  laid  his  lips  to  hers.  For  a  long  moment 
the  two  clung  to  each  other  as  if  they  knew  that  life 
could  hold  no  moment  for  them  so  sweet  as  this.  Them 
they  mounted  and,  side  by  side,  they  rode  off  into  the 
desert  simset. 


UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA  LIBRARY 
BERKELEY 

Return  to  desk  from  which  borrowed. 
This  book  is  DUE  on  the  last  date  stamped  below. 


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